


A Thousand Shards of Glass

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Emotional, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rick has snake bite lip rings, Roadie!Daryl, Rock Stars, Rockstar!Rick, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midnight Quarry frontman Rick Grimes is not happy that his ex-band is still under contract for one final tour. Rick and Shane can barely stand the sight of each other, and the close quarters of the tour bus just make the tensions spike even more.  Luckily for Rick, there's a free seat available with one of the roadies.  All he has to do is get through this damn tour, then he’s done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Sorrowful Life

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve posted a long fic! Life’s been busy, but I finally got something finished! It’s completed and I’ll be posting chapters Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Thanks goes to Skarlatha for her brainstorming nearly a year ago when this was started! Thanks also to [Grimestone](http://grimestone.tumblr.com/) who posted tatted up manips of the boys that inspired this fic. [You can see them here.](http://twdobsessive.tumblr.com/post/146426776200/twd-rockstar-au-coming-soon-to-an-ao3-screen-near)
> 
> Note: This is unbeta’d. Apologies in advance for any errors.

“Don’t look so miserable, Rick,” Maggie said as she flipped the blinker on and slowed to a stop at a busy L.A. street corner.

“I’m fine,” Rick said sullenly, his gaze lost out the window.

“You’re not fine. But you are going to BE fine. Everyone will get back together. Bygones will be bygones and-” 

“Lori’s not a bygone, Maggie. She’s a person. Don’t minimize it." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We're under contract for this. I’m here. I’ll do it. But I don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Well, you can’t stand on stage with that pathetic mopey look on your face singing the the lyrics to _Go For The Jugular._ ”

Rick shook his head. “I’ve always hated that fucking song, Maggie. It’s not me.” 

“Well, it’s not your song. It’s the band’s song. And the fans of Midnight Quarry LOVE that song. So you are going to nut up and get on stage at every single one of these twenty-seven cities and you are going to purr into that microphone about your bloody teeth and the metallic taste and the power of being a predator and whatever the hell else those lyrics are about.”

Rick gaped at Maggie incredulously. “You are supposed to be our _manager_ , Maggie and you don’t even know the lyrics to our hit song?!”

“Rick, being your manager is my JOB. When I’m off duty… y’know… I like myself some Kenny G. Just wanna relax.” He shook his head and let his gaze float back out the window. 

After three stop lights of silence, Maggie’s tone got softer and more empathetic. “So how are things with Lori?”

“How are they? We’re getting fucking divorced, Maggie. How do you think they are?” Rick ran a hand through his thick curls again and sighed. 

“Rick. I don't mean to sound unsympathetic here, but rock stars get divorced all the time and life goes on. They keep playing. They meet someone new. They make lots of money. It's the circle of life." Maggie pulled her Beamer into the parking lot.

"I don't want to meet someone new. I just want to be fucking happy. Before Quarry. Before Lori. Before all this shit." 

"Please, Rick. You've never been happy," Maggie sighed as the car slowed. The tour bus was in sight and Glenn and Andrea were already waiting, signing autographs, surrounded by flashes, fans and paparazzi. 

"I used to be happy," Rick mumbled, crinkling his brow in an attempt to remember when.

Maggie pulled into a parking spot away from the preoccupied paparazzi and as Rick opened the door, a hulking shadow appeared and pushed it back shut. 

Tyreese then climbed into the back seat and closed the door.

"Here, put this on," he said, flinging a wadded-up T-shirt over the front seat.

"Don't you ever say things like 'hello'?" Rick asked.

"No. I say things like 'put this on'. Now come on, change before they see us."

Rick tugged off his T-shirt that said "Number of Fucks Given: Zero", and wriggled into the worn, beaten, grey shirt the publicist appeared with.

"Why does this look like you just pulled it out of the trash?" Rick asked, sniffing it to confirm in advance that the answer wasn't 'because it was.' 

"Was designed that way. Looks great," Tyreese said absently as he tapped at his cell.

"It's too fucking tight, Tyreese," Rick whined.

"Supposed to be," Tyreese said as the swoop of a sent text slid out of the publicist's phone. He then looked up and gave Rick his undivided attention. "See," he motioned to the shirt. "It's the shirt from the first tour. Looks old like you've kept it all this time. Loved it. Worn it. Like you guys are BACK! Back together and ready to ROCK THE HELL out of this tour. Already got them on hand and as soon as the paparazzi gets this morning's photos out, the fans can buy this exact shirt- old, faded-looking, CLASSIC Midnight Quarry! YEAH!"

Tyreese waited to be praised for his marketing genius as Rick craned his neck towards the crowd by the bus. "Glenn and Andrea aren't wearing one."

"Well, you can't ALL wear one. That'd look ridiculous," he answered, attention refocused back to his phone.

Rick turned back to Maggie. "You couldn't park any closer?"

"Nope," she said, pointing to the back seat with her thumb.

"Gotta make an entrance,' Tyreese chimed in, "Lot of photo ops in the walk from here to there." Another message swooped into the stratosphere as Tyreese wedged the phone into his back pocket. "Let's roll, and remember, Rick, you are happy to see these guys."

"No I'm not," Rick said flatly. 

"Fake it," Maggie hissed.

The publicist and manager got out and Tyreese opened Rick's door, flanking him on the walk to the bus. Glenn made eye contact and waved as the media turned like they were one being and then flocked like a herd of cattle towards Rick.

Maggie pinched Rick in the ribs and after a quick growl at her, he put on his best 'people are watching smile' and started waving.

"Rick, Rick," the paparazzi shouted as they surrounded him like a horde of hungry zombies from an old Sci Fi channel horror flick.

Questions flooded him. Camera flashes. Microphones shoved into his face. Pens and paper with pleas for an autograph. He was drowning.

"Rick, how's it feel to have the band back together?"

"Will there be a new album after the tour?"

"Have you seen Shane yet?"

"Rick, isn't that the shirt from your original tour? You must be so glad to be back!"

"Where's Shane? We haven't seen him yet. There are rumors that the band is covering up his death, is that true?"

"Rick, there are also Internet rumors that you are dead. Can you comment on that?"

Rick's struggle not to roll his eyes was unbearable. He ran a hand through his wavy hair to buy a few seconds of time to think and focus. "Good news, everyone! We're all alive," he said loudly and clearly to the crowd, fake smile beaming even though in his head he was shouting, " _You fucking morons! Did you basically just ask me if I was dead?"_

As more questions came at him like automatic rifle fire, Rick spoke over the crowd, "We're all glad to be back and we're ready to kick this thing into gear!" he said in his 'get everyone pumped' voice, a voice he barely even recognized as his own anymore. He gave Glenn a fist bump and side hug and embraced Andrea. 

"You really OK?" she whispered into his ear. 

"I'll be better in two months when this horseshit is over," Rick replied in a whisper, keeping his smile perfectly in place.

As if on cue, Rick heard the hard motor of an expensive, throaty sports car driving way too fast for a parking lot. Glenn put a hand firm on his shoulder as if anchoring him into place. The crowd turned and moved like a slow wave over to a red Porsche that stopped and parked in the middle of the lot, nowhere near an actual parking spot. Shane climbed out. Sunglasses even though it was overcast. No shirt on even though it was chilly. And a smile that he probably slept in because it was always there. ALWAYS.

God what a dick, Rick thought. Tyreese was suddenly behind him, adding a hand to his back next to Glenn’s. “Go over there and fucking hug him, then get on the bus.” It was Ty’s 'Do what I fucking say now' voice and although Rick hated this, hated being 'handled' and 'managed,' he did as instructed out of his sense of obligation and responsibility. He’d helped create the band. He wanted his fans to be happy. He always put their happiness above his own. And he continued to do so as he moved like a robot, making his way through the swarm of media.

The paparazzi wouldn’t notice. The fans wouldn’t notice. But Shane would recognize that Rick’s smile was fake. 100% pure bullshit. The lead singer obediently slapped hands with Shane, putting his other hand affectionately on the man’s shoulder and pulling him in for a brotherly hug.

“Nice shirt,” Shane whispered in his ear. 

“Fuck off,” Rick growled through his smile and then they both laughed ridiculously fake laughs and made their way onto the bus.  
__________

Once on board, Rick walked to the back and slammed into a seat with his arms crossed. Shane was hugging and whispering hellos to Glenn and Andrea as Maggie gathered the whole crew into the tight confines of the kitchen area on the bus. Rick recognized most of them from their tour the previous year. As Maggie shouted for everyone to shut up, Tyreese climbed on board staring at his cell like always.

Finally everyone settled and all eyes were on Maggie. 

“Alright gang. We’re back!” she said excitedly, waiting for an applause. Eugene, the bus driver, was the only one to give a few half-hearted slow claps before he realized it wasn’t mandatory and stopped.

Maggie sighed and changed tactics. “Alright. No one wants to be here. Y’know what? I don’t give a fuck about that and neither do your fans. I want twenty-seven ass-kicking shows and I want energy and smiles and excitement. I don’t need to remind anyone here that you are under CONTRACT to do this, do I?”

“I want to be here. I’m excited,” Glenn mumbled. Rick rolled his eyes. Glenn- always trying to be the fucking peacemaker. 

“Rick?” Maggie asked.

“What?” he grumbled.

“You got this? You good?” 

Rick nodded, teeth clenched.

“Shane?” Maggie turned to him.

“I’m always good, baby,” he said with ease.

“Fantastic,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “We got the same crew y’all know- Axel, Morales and Daryl with equipment. Eugene’s driving the bus. T-dog is security. They’ve done our shows before. Shouldn’t be any surprises.” 

Rick glanced at the men and gave them each a nod. These were guys who were probably doing what they wanted to do. No pressure or stress from the media or fucking Ty and Maggie. Out on the road with a rock band. Driving across the country. These guys were probably happy guys. Rick crinkled his forehead again deep in thought, tuning out Maggie as he tried again to remember what happiness felt like.


	2. The Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd! Apologies in advance! :-)

Daryl pushed the speaker into the back corner of the truck, getting it in just the right spot so that all the equipment he was in charge of would fit. He scratched at his messy hair and looked back out onto the blacktop at everything else that still needed to be loaded. He could visualize where everything needed to be. Packing up for a tour was like riding a bike. He slipped the job back on like a well-worn pair of jeans. He'd been a roadie and the sound guy for Midnight Quarry for their last three tours, and truth be told he was more shocked than anyone to get the call for the reunion tour.

The last tour was the worst one. The “break-up” tour the roadies called it. Every show ended with several of them pulling Shane and Rick apart. Daryl felt bad for the lead singer. Always had, even though Rick Grimes probably wouldn’t know Daryl if he tripped over him. During shows Daryl was stationed at the sound and light board and it was his job to pay attention and to be acutely aware of what was happening on stage. The poor lead has been miserable forever. And to be honest, although Daryl’s never spoken much to him, Rick seemed like the kind of guy who was more grounded than most musicians. He was married and brought his wife to every show. Groupies everywhere. He never slept around. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said about his wife. And frankly, Daryl could identify with that. That feeling of absolute shock from finding out that someone who loved you actually didn’t. 

At the thought, he caught himself pulling out his cell to check for messages and stopping himself before he pressed the button. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and hopped down off the back of the truck to grab the next piece of equipment. Axel and Morales helped him with the heavy stuff and Eugene occasionally stopped over to inform them of the square root of pie or some shit, trying to help with how to best fit everything even though Axel, Morales and Daryl had worked this exact job for three years. Daryl wondered, more often than not, if rockstar bus driver was really Eugene’s calling. He would have made a good Mythbuster. Maybe a high school chemistry teacher.

Once the truck was loaded, Axel, Morales and Daryl leaned against it and watched the paparazzi swarm like vultures over Rick’s arrival. 

“Think they’ll stay together the whole tour?” Morales asked.

“Fuck no,” Axel laughed.

“Fifty bucks says they fall apart before the half-way point,” Morales said with a raised brow.

“I’ll put my money on the first six shows,” Axel nodded. “Daryl- you wanna get a piece of this?”

“Nah, man. Rick Grimes ain’t gonna bail on the fans,” he said, checking his phone again for texts out of habit.

Axel shrugged and lit a cigarette. “Has every right to. Shane Walsh is a dickbag.”

“Yeah, but I watch Rick from the sound board. Way he is with his fans? He ain’t up there for himself or for Shane or for Maggie or anyone. He’s there cause some kid’s been listening to his albums for years and saved up enough money to buy the ridiculously expensive concert ticket and their life’s dream is to see Midnight Quarry live.”

“Speaking of the dickbag,” Morales murmured as he shook his head at Axel’s offer of a cigarette. Shane’s red sports car sped into the parking lot, almost as obnoxious as the drummer himself.

“You know the worst part?” Axel said. “He had dozens of damn groupies lined up at his door every night and he still had to fuck Lori. Why? You know, man?”

As they watched Rick walk over to Shane, Morales dramatically pulled out his wallet. “Wait, wait! I’m at least putting five on a punch to the nose here!”

Daryl rolled his eyes and laughed. “Not with Maggie nearby. She’d fucking strangle the shit out of them both.”

“You mean she’d go for the jugular?” They all turned to Eugene’s unexpected voice. “Cause get it? Like their hit song is _Go for the Jugular_?”

“Yeah. We get it, Eugene,” Daryl said quickly before the guy pulled out a white board and a laser pointer to explain the brilliance of his own pun. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be over there managing the bus?” Morales asked.

“I’d just as soon stay out of the kill zone if shit goes south.” The four men watched as the paparazzi took the last of their pictures and everyone boarded the bus. Maggie finally waved them over and they trudged on after the talent. The team meeting lasted all of twenty minutes and the show was on the road. Axel and Morales drove the larger truck, Daryl drove the smaller and everyone else followed in the bus. They were off to stop one- San Francisco. 

Daryl loved driving, nothing but the open road, windows down and the luxury of quiet. His phone rang forty miles in as he turned onto I-5 North and he looked down at the name. He’d been unconsciously hoping for Guillermo even though the ringtone clearly indicated that it was fucking Merle. Daryl put it on speaker phone.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? What kinda way is that to greet me, little brother? This here’s long distance! And I had to dial this phone with one hand!” 

“Merle- I can’t-”

Daryl’s older brother laughed that razor-sharp laugh and it filled the cab.

“I’m just fucking with you baby brother. I’m not gonna mention it every time. Been doing fine anyway. Might get a prosthetic next week. You know what I found out? Getting a hook is a real actual option. Like I could be a pirate. I mean, not a butt pirate like you-”

“Merle, I’m driving, man-”

Daryl was cut off by the heavy, jagged laugh again. “You know I’m just fucking with you.”

“I know man.” Daryl looked out the driver’s side window as Morales was passing him, Axel’s ass at the window mooning him. “Jesus Christ,” Daryl murmured with a laugh. It would not be the last mooning on this two-month tour. Daryl knew that as fact.

Merle filled a good stretch of I-5 with a laundry list of reasons that Daryl should come back to Georgia after the tour. Daryl knew this was going to be a weekly call for the rest of the summer. Merle didn’t want Daryl gone. But Daryl didn’t want to set foot in Georgia again. After a few minutes of half-hearted “uh-huh’s”, Merle finally stopped trying to make his case. “You know it comes down to this, Darlina. You are letting that asshole run you out of an entire state. And that shit ain’t right. Don’t let Guillermo chase you out of a place you want to be.”

Daryl sighed. He took the sunglasses from the top of his head and put them on properly as he curved on the highway towards the rising sun. “I ain’t running away from nothing, Merle. Georgia just ain’t a place for someone like me, man. I need a new start.”

Merle sighed on the other end of the line. “Well, G’s been here twice lookin’ for ya. Said you was gone. Didn’t give him no details. And if you really don’t want to be in Georgia no more, you know I’d support that. I just don’t want your reasons for deciding your life to revolve around that sleezeball.”

“Thanks, man. And I’m sorry about what happened with your h-”

“Daryl. I’m not going to fucking listen to this every time we talk for the rest of my life. Ain’t your fault and it’s over ok?” Merle said in an uncharacteristic burst of seriousness.

“Mmhmm” Daryl murmured unconvincingly. After they hung up, Daryl focused on the road ahead and the rising sun that signified the start of a new day. It was time to put the past behind him. It was time to focus on his own happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update is Friday!


	3. Consumed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early since my dear friend Seta-Kaita pointed out last night that it was already techincally Friday where he is!   
> :-)
> 
> Reminder- unbeta'd! Enjoy those typos!

Rick's stomach was in knots. Three hours into a tour that would be two months long and he already wanted to go for his own damn jugular. As the bus rattled forward he pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the window, keeping as much of himself outside the vehicle as he could.

Shane was alternating between obnoxious laughter on his phone and banging the drum sticks together, using the seat in front of him as a drum set. 

Glenn dropped into the seat next to the lead singer.

"What?" Rick asked, not moving his gaze from the blurry asphalt passing below them.

"Look like you're walking to your execution, man." When he got no response, he continued. "It's gonna feel good. Y'know, once you're up there again. In the zone."

He meant well. Rick knew that. But Glenn was not one to find silence comfortable anywhere. He was always a little nervous and high strung and Rick pictured sixty straight days of avoiding Shane and hearing Glenn's chipper voice droning on, as steady as the sound of tires on the road beneath them.

Rick wanted silence already. It's only been hours and he already wanted to be left alone.   
Glenn bounced a foot, waiting for conversation and Rick finally gave pity. He pulled his gaze back into the bus and looked at Glenn. "What were you up to during the ... break?" He tried to look sincere and interested. Glenn was the youngest member of the band and even though it was only by a handful of years, Rick being the oldest and the lead, felt compelled to play the father role.

Glenn was thrilled at the opportunity for chatter. He told Rick about the pizza place he used to work for naming a dish after him, the Glenn Rhee-gitoni. It was like regular rigatoni, but super cheesy. 

He talked about his excitement for the tour. How he was ready this time. Not as nervous. Glenn had a habit of puking before each show. Usually about ten minutes before walking on stage. You could set your clock to his stomach spasms. Maggie even had a bucket made for him with glittery silver paint that read- "Glenn's Guts". The roadies set it up right by the curtain every day. And Glenn would puke in it every night. Rick wondered whose job it was to deal with the clean up. Maggie probably didn't get paid enough for this shit.

Rick thought about asking the awkward bass guitarist if he'd met any girls. But that would lead to talk of relationships. Then to Lori. Then to Shane. And Rick couldn't take that right now. Glenn rattled on about a song he'd been playing around with. Glenn had a good voice and Rick would have enjoyed doing some songs with him on stage, harmonizing together. But he was vomiting over just playing bass, so there wasn't much hope to get the stage-shy, ex-pizza delivery boy to use his lungs up there. 

Rick knew Glenn wasn't struck on the band's wild song lyrics either. He was more like Rick in that way. Shane wrote most of the songs and Andrea practically orgasms on stage as she sings some of the filthy stuff that dribbled out of Shane's head, like Welcome to the Tombs and Last Day on Earth. She ate that shit up. Shane had fucked her too and it's a miracle THAT wasn't what broke up the band. But Andrea was more of a groupie-whore than Shane was. Everyone in every city knew she'd be out at a bar after the shows and she'd be looking for a good time. Man or woman. One of each. Whatever. She was voted Maxim magazine’s "Kinkiest Hottie" last year and she took that title as a badge of honor. Rick looked over at her, in her army green tank top and tight jean shorts. She had fingernail scratches down her shoulder blade and bruises at each ankle and both wrists. She glanced over when she felt Rick’s stare. Andrea always knew when someone was looking. 

“Rick, baby,” she said, leaning into the aisle from the recliner she was in, “You need to do something about this pout. I can help ya out if you know what I mean.” Rick rolled his eyes. She knew full well that Rick wasn’t about that shit. 

“You know, Andrea, I’m getting a little offended that you hit on every damn person on this bus but me,” Glenn said. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a compact to check her make-up. 

“Please, Glenn. You ain’t ever gonna be interested. Too busy pining,” she said and shot her eyes up to Maggie.

“Shut up, Andrea! I am not.”

Rick stood. “I’m gonna piss, man,” he said to excuse himself. On his way, he stopped at the kitchen area of the bus and looked through the cupboards for nothing in particular. When he closed the small fridge door with a Ginger Ale in his hand, Shane was standing behind it. 

“Maggie said we gotta talk and clear shit up before the first stop,” Shane said.

“Talk about what?” Rick asked, his eyes stabbing daggers into Shane’s over and over like a psychotic serial killer. Shane smiled, shook his head and looked down. Before he could open his mouth, Rick said, “Nothing to talk about, man. Do you understand me? I don’t want to talk about it. Period. Let’s just get through this tour and get it over with.”

“Rick, man. We got something here. This isn’t the end of Midnight Quarry. We got more in us. We just need to put the petty shit to the side and focus on the music. This shouldn’t be the end of us. This…” 

“SHANE!” Rick snapped, loud enough for every head to turn back to the tiny kitchenette and aggressive enough to put Maggie on her feet, walking quickly to them. Before Rick could finish his thoughts, Maggie stepped between the two. 

“Guys, you are just going to make this harder on yourselves. You need to call a truce for now. I don’t give a shit about the circumstances. You are both gonna be happy and--”

“He ain’t ever happy, Mags,” Shane said and looked back to Rick. “Ain’t that right, Grimes? Never happy. Never made HER happy. Never…”

“SHANE!” Maggie and Glenn shouted at the same time. The moment of silence that followed was pierced by a pornographic ring tone from Shane’s cell. Maggie, Shane and Rick all glanced down to it and a picture of Lori lit up the screen as the text ...Lori Calling… scrolled across it. The dead silence, save for the cell phone, was like a calm among greying clouds. Either it’s just going to quietly fade from overcast to night. Or it’s the calm before a storm. You just didn’t know which. On the third “ring”, which was actually the sound of a female groaning, Rick lunged for Shane, pulling a fist back to throw a punch. Glenn appeared out of nowhere and pulled Shane away as Maggie, who was stronger than she appeared, pushed Rick back towards the bedroom at the end of the bus. 

“ENOUGH!” she yelled. “Shane--Go back up front and sit the fuck down. Rick--Go take a fucking nap.” She shook her head at Glenn and patted a thanks on his shoulder. I’m putting on some headphones. I need to get away from you assholes for a while. Well, not you, Glenn. But you know… the other assholes.”

“I’m not the asshole,” Rick said between clenched teeth. 

“Fine, you’re not an asshole,” the manager said as she walked back to the front of the bus. Rick tried to slam the bedroom door shut, but it was a cheap RV kind of door and it barely made so much as a soft thwap when it connected with the frame. 

Rick seethed. He’s still seeing her? He doesn’t “date” the same person for longer than 25 minutes. He knew Shane was doing it on purpose to get under his skin. Rick had been pushing back on Shane’s God-awful lyrics, trying to change directions for the band and finally talking about quitting. It pissed Shane off to be losing control and this was clearly his way of striking back. Rick sat up in the bed with his arms tightly crossed. He wouldn’t let this get to him. He and Lori had probably been headed for divorce either way. The punch Rick was preparing wasn’t because he was angry at Shane. It’s because Shane was right. Lori hadn’t been happy. And neither had Rick. When he was 18, he’d have sold his right arm to have this life. This rock star life that every kid who’s ever plucked the strings of a guitar would die for. On the road. Fans. Fame. Playing to huge sold-out arenas. Women lined up as the bus pulled in to each new city. Crowds throwing panties at you and chanting your name. Applause. 

It all sounds good in theory. But being under the stage lights was a lonely place to be. The bright whites blinded you and you couldn’t really see the crowd. You knew they were there, but you didn’t know them. They were strangers. The others on the stage were with you because they were paid to be with you. These weren’t friends. These were co-workers. No different than cubicle and water cooler co-workers. And the music would start and Rick will bring the microphone to his mouth and he would become his other person. The one who could put on the smile. Purr and scream into the microphone. Get the crowd excited, almost in animalistic glee. Move his hips, confident and powerful. But Rick... the real Rick… was burrowed into himself waiting til the show was over. 

He had to get through this tour. He was under contract, he owed it to the fans, and frankly, he would need the money from the full concert to help hold him over after he quit the band. And he _was_ quitting the band. There was no doubt in his mind. This tour was the last. All he had to do was get through it. Two months and then he’d be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention this was a slow build, right?
> 
> Hope everyone is enjoying it despite the fact that Rick and Daryl haven't spoken yet! It's coming! Don't worry!


	4. First Time Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd

Setting up for the first show was always exciting. Even back when Daryl was sound guy for smaller bands up and down the East Coast, the first night was the big night. If anything was going to go wrong, it was probably going to go wrong then. Everyone around him was always jittery and stressed on the first stop of a new tour but Daryl could stay zen. What the fuck was there to stress about anyway? If there was feedback in one of the mics, he’d fix it. If someone missed their mark during the set, the audience would be too drunk to notice. If someone dropped a piece of equipment, they’d make arrangements to get a new one. It just simply wasn’t anything worth getting worked up over. 

Maybe the life Daryl had lived made him able to keep things in perspective better than most. Even now, a day that passed without getting the belt was a good day. A day where he wasn’t hungry or cold was a good day. And frankly, in light of recent events, a day where he he didn’t have to see Guillermo’s face was a good day. The constant reminder of Daryl’s shortcomings every time he drove by the retirement community where Guillermo worked was driving him nuts. Daryl wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to fall in love with G. He’d gotten his damn heart broken bad enough with his first boyfriend. After that he swore off men. But then Guillermo… with his sweet smile and his soft voice and his compliments and his arm always proudly swung over Daryl’s shoulder. Five years. Five years and in hindsight two of them were probably filled with G’s cheating. 

Well, not again. Daryl had always been a loner. Other than having Merle, he didn’t _need_ anyone. He always thought having a significant other was the key to a happy life. But that didn’t seem to be what it was all about. His meager experiences with dating usually ended up making him miserable. Merle had been saying he just hadn’t met the right guy yet. Daryl’s brother occasionally had unexpected bursts of fatherly advice. But putting his heart through the agony of another Guillermo didn’t seem like a recipe for happiness. His new plan was simply to get the fuck out of Georgia. Stay moving. No more settling down and lulling himself into complacency. Daryl was ready for his own happiness and leaving Georgia for the Quarry tour was the first step. He knew when he boarded that plane, that it was a final fuck-off to a place he never felt comfortable in anyway. It wasn’t just G. It was everything. It wasn’t easy being a gay southern, redneck in Senoia, Georgia. What would be easy, is steady work on the road. Always moving. Seeing the world. Being happy. 

Daryl was on all fours in the empty arena running wires to the soundboard. The drags from duct tape echo’d in the cavernous room, eerie but at the same time peaceful. He heard slow footsteps, a heavy sigh and the sound of a body dropping dramatically into one of the seats behind him. 

The wires were almost set and Daryl bit off another strip of tape before he turned around to confirm that the familiar exasperated sigh was Maggie, flopped down with a clipboard and a giant jar of Peanut M&M’s on her lap. Daryl was familiar with the sight. The M&M’s were one of Rick Grimes’ only special requests for his dressing room. 

“Band didn’t break up yet, did it?” Daryl asked as he rolled up some excess wire.

“Pfft. I know the roadies are taking bets,” she sighed. “Where are you on it?”

Daryl laughed and flicked at the power switch on his board. “Ain't taking the bet. Don't worry, Mags. Grimes ain't going nowhere. He may hate it but you can tell he's a man that has integrity and understands the importance of doing this for the fans.”

Maggie put the jar down, stood back up and walked over to the sound board. “How are you always so damn calm?”

Daryl shrugged. “Lot a worse shit in the world, Maggie. This is just music, man.”

“No wonder he wanted you here,” Maggie said as she looked at her cell to read an incoming text.

“What? He wanted me here? I didn't realize he even knew my name.” Daryl said. He cursed his heart for speeding up at the thought. The last thing he needed was to fall in love again. And certainly not with the straight lead singer of an internationally known hard rock band.

“You know Rick. He likes the comfort of the familiar. It's why he's worn the same pair of sneakers every day for the past thirteen years despite all the holes. He wanted the same crew. ‘Especially that calm sound guy’,” she air quoted. “Thirteen years in those worn out shoes and believe me I know Lori bought him dozens of new sneakers trying to get him to toss the old ones out.”

Daryl shivered on Rick's behalf, the name Lori striking the same chord with him that hearing Guillermo would.

“Mags, bit of advice. I wouldn't mention Lori’s name on this tour, whether he's around or not.”

The manager met Daryl's eyes. “Yeah. Good point. And I heard through the grapevine about your recent break-up. I'm sorry.”

Daryl's eyes got hard, his body defensive as he plugged in cords. “Where’d you hear that?” he asked.

“Merle.”

“Ah, Christ. You still talk to Merle!?”

Maggie smiled. Actually smiled and that was rare. “He mentioned it when I was calling looking to get you. Known him longer than you, remember.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. He stole your daddy’s car and now you’re best friends.”

“He was misunderstood in his youth and you know my daddy preached about forgiveness,” she said, her tone like a pouty teen.” She paused then continued, “Heard about his hand-”

Daryl stood as tall as he could to convey with his body language that she needed to tread lightly for the rest of the conversation. By the flutter of her eyes, she received the message and she stopped chatting and instead helped Daryl pack up the excess wires.

“He trying to get sympathy? You send him a bouquet of flowers?” Daryl asked, trying his best to make light of it, despite the heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. 

“I sent him a pair of gloves,” Maggie dead-panned.

Daryl looked up and laughed, shook his head as he started flicking on stage lights to test them out.

“Daryl, he's fine, y’know,” she said softly.

“I know,” Daryl muttered. He’d be even better if I was out of his hair, Daryl thought. Poor guy’s been saddled with Daryl for way too long. 

Maggie picked the jar of candy back up from the seat she’d left it in and tucked the clipboard under her arm. She opened the jar lid and offered. Daryl took a handful and ate them all at once. 

“If we can get through the first night, it's all down hill, right?” Maggie asked, more to get encouragement than to give it.

“Yeah, Mags. It's just music, man. It's all good.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m gonna drop off the royal M&M’s then go to my room and sleep like the dead until showtime.”

“I gotta finish up onstage, I’ll drop them off. Go ahead and get some rest, man,” Daryl offered. 

Maggie smiled and handed him the jar. “You Dixon boys are the sweetest.”

Daryl had yet to figure out why on earth Maggie would say shit like that. How anyone could spend much time with Merle and think he was sweet was unimaginable. Daryl loved him, of course. But to be honest, he’d never really understood how Maggie could. And frankly he’d never been able to wrap his head around how Merle could be friends with a woman when sex was clearly not on the table. 

Daryl put the bag of equipment over his shoulder and lugged the M&M’s down the center aisle and up to the backstage hallway. It’s always eerily quiet backstage in the hours before the show. Axel and Morales were just finishing up with the six-foot-tall speakers up on the edges of the stage. “What’s left, boys?” Daryl asked.

Axel threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Hook up the right speakers and set up the guitars and keyboards. We’re grabbing lunch then we’ll finish up. You wanna come?”

“Nah, still ain’t got my appetite back from that full moon out on I-5. I’ll get started up here. You go on,” Daryl said, eager to get everything in place.

“I made twenty bucks on that, bro!” Axel said proudly. “Morales didn’t think I’d do it after we got pulled over by the cops for it that time in Raleigh last year!” 

“Well next time I’ll double whatever he’s offering for you to keep your pants _on_.” Daryl said with a girin, dropping his bag on the stage before going back to find Grimes’ dressing room. He knocked before he walked in even though he was fairly certain the bus hadn’t arrived yet. Sometimes Tyreese insisted on taking certain roads to get the bus the most visibility. When no one answered, he pushed the door open. The room was big and empty. Daryl put the M &M’s on the dressing table. He looked around and felt the loneliness that hung in the room. Daryl had an entire continent separating him from any memories of being cheated on and abandoned. But this poor guy was going to notice Lori’s absence in the dressing room at every single one of the 27 cities on their schedule. He took the lid off the M&M’s and ate another handful. He had been feeling sorry for himself for so many months over G, but some guys had it even worse. Not many people would see a man like Rick Grimes and have the instinct of pity and sympathy. But Daryl felt for the guy. He really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak preview: Daryl and Rick actually talk to each other on Wednesday!


	5. Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Please forgive any stuff and thangs

The first stop was San Francisco and there was a crowd around the hotel as the bus pulled in. Rick frowned at them from the tinted back bedroom window where he’d sat pouting for hours. He heard everyone piling out of the bus as T-dog, their bodyguard, kept vigil at the back entrance to the hotel. The bus sounded completely empty when the door to the back room slid open. Rick totally expected Maggie, but it was Eugene. 

“Maggie send you in here to chase me out?” Rick asked, arching an eyebrow at the mulleted bus driver. 

“I do believe you’ve brought out her bad side. She’s enlisted me to escort you into the hotel. And although coaxing a pouting rock star out of my transport isn’t in my job description, I do take pity on that young lady. She, for reals, has a shitty-ass job babysitting grown-ups who act like you all do.” 

Rick didn’t answer. Eugene waited him out another moment or two then continued, “So with all due respect, and no offense intended, get the hell out of my bus.”

Rick stood and walked passed Eugene. “You are a weird cat, dude,” he muttered.

“Mr. Grimes. If I had a penny for every time someone found me to be unusual in some manner, I’d have, by my rough calculation, about enough money that I wouldn’t need to be chasing you out of a crappy tour bus.”

“Christ, Eugene. I’m goin’ alright?” Rick bounded off the bus ready to make a run for the hotel door. It was a pleasant surprise that this particular hotel had done a good job of blocking the paparazzi. Rick nodded a hello to T-dog and opened the door with T and Eugene following behind him.   
________________

Rick sat off stage antsy to get rehearsal over with despite the fact that they weren’t scheduled to rehearse for another hour. Everyone else was wandering around the hotel or drinking or hanging out with groupies. Once Rick saw his guitar hooked up and rested in the stand, he walked out on stage. The sound board had been already set up and the lights were on so he could see how many seats would be filled later that night. And it was sold out according to Maggie. Rick sighed. He did have a certain level of commitment and even affection for the fans. Hell, he was just a fan once, admiring the hell out of AC/DC and Tool. Going to concerts himself after sitting in line for hours to score tickets. He knew he was going to have to keep himself together through this tour, not just out of the contractual obligation, but because Rick was not an asshole. 

The sound guy was fidgeting with the speakers as Rick picked up his guitar.

“Rest of the crew go for lunch?” Rick asked, putting the strap over his head.

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded and brought his focus back to the dials and buttons in front of him.

“You don’t like goin’ with ‘em?” Rick wondered if maybe this guy craved peace and quiet the same way Rick did.

“I’d rather get my shit done first. Not here to eat. Here to work.” 

“Yeah. I hear that,” Rick answered. He brushed his fingers along the electric guitar and smiled at the soft sound that is capable of coming out of it. It doesn’t always have to be those screaming, angry fan-favorites.

He played a few more chords from a song he’d been working on in his own time. One the band would NEVER be interested in. But working on solo things was keeping Rick sane.

“I don’t know that one,” Daryl said as he stood up and tucked some tools into his work belt. “Pretty.”

Rick flashed a smile. A real one, actually. “Thanks. Not one of ours. Just somethin’ I’d been foolin’ with.” 

Daryl gave Rick a quick nod. “‘S good, man.” 

Rick casually strummed a few more chords as Daryl started walking away, clearly satisfied now that the set-up was ready to go. As Rick watched him leave he wondered why someone like that would be drawn to the kind of surreal, mellow music he was currently coaxing out of his guitar. Seemed like a bit of a bad-ass type despite his reputation for being relatively calm. Rick would have guessed he was exactly the kind of guy that would love Midnight Quarry.

“Hey! Daryl, right?” Rick yelled over. 

Daryl stopped and glanced back, “Yeah.”

“Do you LIKE our music?” 

Rick could tell instantly that the sound guy was trying to decide between honesty or politeness. 

“Lot a’ people love you guys, man.” Daryl responded safely.

“Yeah, I know. But do you? You know Maggie doesn’t even know the lyrics to our hit song and she’s the manager? Did you know that?” 

Daryl shrugged. “I know some of ‘em, man. But I got unusual tastes, so I ain’t a good judge really.”

“What do you like?” Rick asked, curiously. Maggie was apparently listening to Kenny G as they drove through town in a blood-covered tour bus. He was curious what everyone else affiliated with the band really liked. 

“I like the Smiths,” Daryl said with a shrug and a grin. 

“Huh,” Rick responded and he played a few bars of one of their more well-known songs. “Hey- stop me if you think you’ve heard this one before,” Rick said sarcastically as he strummed the guitar chords to that very song.

Daryl chuckled, his smile bright and comfortable with eyes that seemed to brighten up the already well-lit stage they were standing on. “Yeah, man. That’s one of my favorites. See if you can convince Shane and Andrea to try one of those songs.” The roadie laughed and threw Rick a wave as he walked out off stage and out of sight.

Rick strummed a bit more and then reluctantly switched gears to the thrashing required for _Go For the Jugular._ He growled into the microphone as he went through the first stanza. As the reverb quieted and the entire room went silent, he muttered to himself. “God, I hate this shit,” and he put the guitar back in its stand.   
___________________________

An hour later, the entire band, all the crew and Maggie were on the stage prepping for rehearsal. 

Everyone was in place and Maggie was shouting out her final instructions over the sound of Shane's drums, even though she'd told him ten times to stop playing until she was done.

She went down the set list. Reminded them what city they were in. Yelled at them like children about misbehaving and instructed them to do three songs for practice until they can break before the show. She wanted to hear _Go for the Jugular_ , of course, because didn't everyone? Then _No Sanctuary_. And then their closest thing to a power ballad- _Not That Far Gone_. Most likely because it was technically a love song and Maggie would want to make sure Rick could get through it without beating Shane to a pulp or bursting into tears. 

Jugular started out with the 1-2-3 count-off from Shane’s drumsticks. Rick did what he was supposed to do. He growled and purred. Shouted at the climax of the song. Stomped his foot and moved his body in an aggressive, seductive fashion like he was practically coached to at the start of their careers. Andrea came in at her parts, right on time with flawless harmony… if you could call screaming over each other harmony. Glenn managed not to puke, but they all knew that would come before showtime. And Shane kept the beat strong, already starting to glisten with sweat from just one song. By this point, when they were live, there would probably be a dozen pairs of panties on the stage, all in the vicinity of the bare-chested drummer. And Rick admitted, a few at his own feet as well. 

The song ended to an eerie silence for such a big hall and all of them looked to Maggie for approval. 

She nodded. “It’ll have to do. I’m sure you’ll feel the energy and play off it more when the seats are filled,” she said to Rick. He nodded. He was annoyed as hell at himself for struggling so hard to give 100%, but even more annoyed that Maggie noticed it. But she knew. And if she saw it, the fans would see it. Rick would have to be more convincing. He’d do it. He’d manage to get through this so 1,500 kids who spent money for tickets and weeks waiting for this night would have a good time. Rick hated it. But he didn’t want everyone else to. 

“How’s the sound?” Maggie shouted to Daryl and Morales who were at the sound board a few rows back. Daryl gave a thumbs up.

“Run through the other two then you can take an hour break before we need everyone ready and backstage.” She folded her arms through both songs and they played them with the ease of a band that’s been doing it as long as they’ve been doing it. Shit, Rick couldn’t even remember now how long it’s been. Had their first album and tour just a couple years after high school? It was fun back then. Doing mostly covers in Glenn’s garage. No pressure. No demands. Just fun. 

The rehearsal songs had all been fine technically. Everyone was on beat. No one missed their marks. No one stepped out of their stage personas. Hell, most of them WERE their stage personas. Rick's Midnight Quarry patented anguish and anger grew stronger and more believable as he focused on the shredding and thrashing of instruments, mostly from the repetitive beat of the drums, like a constant audial smirk from the drummer himself. Maggie seemed both pleased and concerned over Rick's improved stage presence on the last two songs.

As they walked off the stage, Maggie very strategically placed herself between Rick and Shane. It was right at that moment that Shane’s cell phone went off. The same ring tone as before, and Maggie placed hands tight on Rick’s shoulders and pushed him forward. “Go. Get. Order some room service or something. Take a fucking nap.” 

Behind him, Rick heard the moaning ringtone end and the sound of Shane murmuring. In a likely attempt to garner points with Maggie, Glenn came up and put an arm around Rick for distraction. “I think that went real well, man. You got the lungs, dude. You are a rock GOD and that’s why this hall will be filled.” 

Glenn. Always so well-meaning, but always so goddamn annoying. “Glenn, it ain’t you man, but back off. I just want to be left alone,” Rick said as he ripped open the door to the private back staircase and jogged up sixteen flights of stairs to his room. The jog loosened his muscles and alleviated some of his anger, and by the time he let himself into his room, he felt much more settled and ready to face the evening. 

He wasn’t even really that worried about the show for the night. They all knew their jobs. They’d all do their jobs. The crowd later would give him the proper distraction to get through being on stage with Shane. He might even be able to use some of the anger in the pit of his stomach to kick up his game. 

The show itself wasn’t the problem. It would be fine. No, he was more of a wreck at the thought of another long damn day on the tour bus with everyone walking on eggshells around him, with Shane’s voice grating at his nerves, with Maggie wedging herself between them like she expected them to charge at each other at any moment. And there would be two months of that- Every. Single. Day. 

At that thought, Rick suddenly felt bone-tired. He walked over to the king-sized bed in his room and flopped down on it, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, wondering how it all came to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. I know... there was not a lot of Rick and Daryl time. And sadly- Friday's chapter is just the first show as Daryl watches from the sound board. (There will be some fun cameo's and references to characters/places from canon though!)
> 
> I can promise you, however, LOTS of Rick and Daryl time in Chapter 7 on Monday. Remember... you guys LOVE slow burns, right? You said! ;-)
> 
> (Also- Did my Smith's joke land with the title of that song? Or did I bomb?)


	6. Live Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd
> 
> For anyone that didn't get The Smith's joke last chapter... "Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before" is literally a title of one of their songs. Rick is a dork. (Even when he's the lead singer of a death metal band!)

WoodBurried, the opening band, absolutely sucked. Daryl tried to think back to previous openers and ranked them in his head. The first time he was out with Quarry it was Terminated. Bunch of hipster douchebags if you asked Daryl. Had some one-hit wonder, _At The End of the Tracks_ , and then they faded away to oblivion after the tour. Way too full of themselves considering they were only opening and none of the Quarry fans had ever heard of them. Daryl remembered an over-enthused Quarry fan pulling the plug on Terminated’s equipment halfway through their first stop. The guy had the crowd chanting “Quarry” as Daryl was radioing to Axel about where the connection was broken. Daryl smiled a bit at the memory. That may have been the one time he wasn’t as zen as he had the reputation of being. Yeah, Terminated sucked. 

The second Midnight Quarry tour Daryl was on had a chic band for the opener called Primo’s Saviors. They were ok. Kinda hard, both in the music they played and their personalities. If Daryl remembered right, Andrea was sleeping with the red-head throughout the entire tour. Last year it was The Claimers for two shows until they got hauled in for a bar fight where one of the band members ended up literally killing a guy. The rumors that year about Quarry’s involvement were out of control. Tyreese loved it because A.) it wasn’t true. And B.) People _thought_ it was true which helped Midnight Quarry’s bad-ass factor. (There is no such thing as bad publicity.) 

For the rest of that tour they picked up some band called The Wolves that didn’t even have a record out yet. They looked menacing like they’d slash your throat as soon as look at you, but they had kind of a hippy groove that Daryl actually liked. Lead singer looked like he’d never seen the right side of a toothbrush, but the guy was nice enough. Not too bad looking overall, truth be told.

Daryl listened politely from his station at the soundboard to WoodBurried’s first song that he guessed was called _Govern Me_ since the lyrics were literally just those two words shouted out between some slightly off-tune guitar riffs. Yeah... Yup... These guys were the worst openers by a mile. Half way through their 5-song set, Daryl finally looked over to Morales. “Breaking into the prison of your heart?” Daryl asked, stifling a laugh at the song lyrics. “That is the gayest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

“I don’t think that’s PC, dude,” Morales responded with a smile. 

“I’m allowed to call shit gay. You aren’t.”

Morales laughed. “Ahh is that one of the perks?”

“Getting cock is one of the perks, man,” Daryl responded with a laugh. “Getting to call shit gay is just a tiny bonus.” Daryl was happy to have this kind of banter and camaraderie with Morales. Axel was laid back about it too and coming from Georgia, being able to talk and joke with other guys about this kind of stuff was unheard of. It’s part of the reason Daryl knew that he’d have to find something to keep him out in California after the tour was over. He could be himself. And to be honest, although Daryl struggled with his self esteem all his life, he was starting to like himself a little. Even if Guillermo never did in five whole years of living together.

By the last song, both Daryl and Morales were just watching ambivalently with their arms folded and heads tilted at the same angle. “You think that guy has no eye under that patch or is that just a gimmick?” Morales asked. 

“I’m thinking someone stabbed him with a fork to get him to stop singing. Look at him up there. He doesn’t even feel the music. He’s completely stiff.”

“Stiff… ha! I feel like there’s an opportunity for a dick joke here, but that’s kinda your thing,” Morales said. “I better get up there to help Axel with the switch out. Be back.” 

Daryl nodded and started flipping switches and watching the dials for the amps. When he flipped the stage lights off the crowd went wild, clearly more of a “Yay Quarry is up next” than a “that gay ass prison song was fantastic” kind of cheer. The arena started shaking at the sound of synchronized foot stomping and the rumble of a Quarry chant that was in the throws of evolving. Daryl couldn’t help but smile. He hoped Rick at least enjoyed some of this excitement because it really was a rush.

Axel radio’d that the set-up was ready. They were right on cue to take the stage. On his mark, Daryl used a hand and slid up all the stage lights in one fell swoop. The crowd roared as Shane started an angry drum beat right from the get-go. Daryl watched him and squinted. Why so many chics threw themselves after Shane Walsh, he would never understand. The dude radiated narcissism and sexism. He set the lights on pre-programmed auto for the first song and he folded his arms to watch. The sound of Rick’s guitar came out like a screeching bolt before the lead singer even stepped on to the stage. Daryl nudged a dial to amp the sound of it up a little. 

Daryl watched Rick saunter out onto the stage, his body almost slithering like a copperhead to the low thrum of the bass guitar. Daryl could see even from where he stood that Rick was not the Rick from the tour bus. When he was onstage he was a different man. Daryl never had any long conversations with the guy but they’d talked here and there over the years and off-stage, Rick is just a regular guy. A guy Daryl could picture hanging out with. Going fishing or having a beer. Not even in a relationship way. Daryl was done with that shit anyway. He just seemed like a cool guy to hang out with.

But onstage? Onstage Rick was a God among men. He walked like the earth should be proud to have his footsteps upon it. He had this confident bow-legged walk. His hips moved like he was sex itself and Daryl chased the thoughts away of what Rick might be like in bed. By the time the lead singer reached the microphone it was the exact right mark to lean into it and growl out the first lyrics of _Made to Suffer._

 _“Ain’t dead yet but that’s what we’re here for”_ he growled into the microphone with a snarl and then launched into the repeated chorus, skipping a few of the opening lines so that the first song would start with a crash-bang to whip up the crowd. 

_“Made to break us_  
Take us  
Make us  
Shameless  
Bleed us  
Bloodless  
Ain’t dead yet. We ain’t dead yet.  
Gut like cattle  
left to bleed  
The end  
...is already written  
because” 

And then the entire stadium erupted. “ _Ain’t dead yet but that’s what we’re here for._ ”

Daryl watched Rick as his body writhed against his guitar. He was giving the audience everything he had, his emotions, his energy, his focus. The sound of the guitar distorting and wailing and screaming filled the arena. He looked like he was connecting to every single headbanging fan in the audience. Daryl refocused a strobe and smiled at the the way it glistened in Rick’s eyes. Putting the focus on those eyes made the whole stage come alive even from all the way out at the sound board. 

Morales slipped through the crowd and took his spot next to Daryl. “Anything happen before show time?” Daryl shouted loud enough for Morales to hear over the crowd and the music. 

Morales shrugged “Glenn puked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the sad news was that this was a short chapter with no Rick/Daryl communication.
> 
> HOWEVER
> 
> The good news is that Monday's chapter is three times longer and is almost all Rick and Daryl hanging out!!! Stay tuned!


	7. Hounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d. 
> 
> Finally some Rick and Daryl bonding!!

The encore was _Go For The Jugular_. Like it always was. The drums were too loud. Like they always were. The fans were going wild. Like they always did. But there was at least a little comfort in the familiarness of it. No surprises. Rick just kept his body and mind in the Midnight Quarry Lead Singer mode and he got through. 

It wasn’t until the last set of lyrics that he started to feel the loss of Lori. She’d been coming with them on the bus for years. And after all the adrenaline from a show, he was glad to have her back in his dressing room waiting for him. But suddenly he realized that this time, he’d be all amped up with no one to share that energy and excitement with. Even if she wasn’t really all that excited with him, at least it was someone there.

His final growls were stronger than usual and he heard Andrea shouting “Fuck Yeah, Rick!” behind him. He sang rough and hard, more emotion than anger, but it was raw and desperate and the crowd screamed along.

_Because I can taste your blood on my lips  
Your flesh between my teeth  
Your heart -it’s slowing beat  
I will drink you in, and taste life  
And it's so niiiiice  
Cause I’ll go for the jugular  
And   
make   
you  
Miiiiiine….._

And Rick dropped the mike, because Tyreese told him he had to drop the mike. And he walked off stage as the music played out and Andrea melodically repeated “ _Go for the Jugular”_. The audience was screaming and cheering but their happiness didn’t bleed over into Rick like it use to back in the day.

Maggie was waiting in the wings as he stormed past, sweat-soaked and already confused about what one does after a show if his wife wasn’t there. He’s not the groupie type. He’s not Shane. He’s NOTHING like Shane. 

“Rick, that was fucking amazing. You really tapped into something there,” Maggie said as she quickened her pace to keep up with the angry rocker. 

“Back off Maggie, I don’t need you following me around all night. I just punched the clock. Now I’m going to live the luxurious life of a rockstar by showering with tiny hotel-brand soap, drinking over priced mini-bottles of twist-cap chardonnay from the mini fridge and ordering a hamburger from room service that will be colder than the ice bucket by the time it gets up to the 16th floor.” Rick stared at her, almost daring her to attempt to cheer him up.

“As you were,” she said with her hands up in surrender. 

The lead singer walked in circles in his dressing room. Then he jogged up sixteen flights of stairs in the back hallway to his private suite and walked circles in there. His ears were still ringing and his blood was still pumping and he just didn’t want to sit in a room alone. But he also hated everyone and everything. So his options were pretty much zero. He was at a complete and utter loss over what to do with himself. After guzzling the aforementioned chardonnay, he jumped in the shower to wash the show off of him. To wash _Rick Grimes, Midnight Quarry Frontman_ off of him so he could be just Rick again. He turned the faucet as hot as it would go and tried to burn everything from his skin. 

The bathroom was so steam-filled after he got out that he couldn't even find the door without feeling for it. He stood in front of his open suitcase, a plain white towel hung low on his hips, some clothes spilling out on the floor, some still folded inside, but none hung on the theft-proof, hotel-provided hangers. They never stay anywhere long enough to bother. Should he get in pajamas? Or put clothes on? Was he really going to celebrate his first night back out on stage with a cold hamburger… alone?

“Fuck this shit,” he said to no one and he snatched up his cell phone. Maggie had programed everyone’s phone numbers into his cell for emergencies and he scrolled down and called Eugene. If he had to eat a hamburger alone… goddamnit, he was at least gonna go out and get a hot one. 

“For the love of all that is holy, please tell me you are calling to demote me to drive for the opening band,” Eugene said without even a hello in front of it.

“No, I’m calling to promote you to driving me to McDonald’s,” Rick said attempting to use the same mocking tone right back to the snarky bus driver.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding your request. You want me to take you… in the giant tour bus with blood dripping down the side… to McDonalds around the corner from where you just played? You are aware that you will be smothered by fans, correct? Not to mention all the fingerprints they will get all over my bus which I just had cleaned.”

“Don’t I have a fucking entourage or something? Get another vehicle. Rent one. Whatever you gotta do. I’ll pay you double-time.” He grabbed jeans out of the suitcase and started getting dressed as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“I’ll want double-time, I want T-Dog to come because I am not equipt to body guard anyone in the likelihood that you get spotted, and I want a double-quarter-pounder with cheese and a diet coke. Those are my demands.”

“Whatever, Eugene. This isn’t a hostage negotiation. I’m gonna be waiting at those back doors we came in at in fifteen.” Rick hung up before Eugene could respond. 

\----------

In a rented Taurus, Rick sat in the back seat alone listening to Eugene and T-dog argue about which of the four nearby McDonald's would be the safest. He had his old ratty Radiohead baseball cap on low over his eyes and he wore a baggy jacket. 

"Look, Grimes," T-dog said as he put his arm up on the seatback to turn and meet Rick's eyes. "I really don't like ya going in alone."

Rick glared at him. "I don't want a fucking babysitter. I want to eat a goddamn hamburger all by myself like a normal adult.”

T-dog was sympathetic, Rick could see it in his eyes. But it was the guy's job to worry about this stuff.

"You're not a normal adult, man," he said, sorrow dripping into his words. "You're Rick Grimes."

The lead singer tucked his hat further down his eyes and reached for the door. "You can watch me from the car, T. Please. I just need a little normal." Rick nearly pitied himself at the sound of desperation in his voice and T-dog just gave him a slight nod. 

Eugene coughed for attention.

"I know, I know. Double-quarter-pounder with cheese and a diet coke,” Rick grumbled.

"I know it wasn't part of the pre-arranged deal, but I might be more inclined to pick up my phone in the middle of the night like this if you added an order of fries to sweeten the deal," Eugene responded in his standard monotone.

"Fries, yeah. T? You want anything?"

"No way, man. I'm a vegetarian," he answered with a proud smile. People can be surprising, Rick thought, and he finally got out of the car and walked alone through the parking lot. Fresh air and freedom.

He'd worn long sleeves and a jacket that zipped all the way up past his neck so all of his tattoos were hidden. It wasn't too crowded since it was after midnight. He kept his head low at the register as he ordered the Number Four, deciding to wait on getting Eugene's order until after he ate.

Rick could tell the young blond behind the counter was looking at him with suspicion even though he wasn't meeting her eyes.

"Are you..."

"Get that all the time, sweetheart," Rick interrupted. "Especially tonight since they're in town. But I'm pretty sure the actual rock star is eating at a four-star restaurant and doing body shots off groupies. Not here deciding whether or not to splurge on a milkshake."

She giggled, and her light, feminine laughter was joined by a deeper rumble from behind Rick. “Yeah, and ‘sides, I’m pretty sure Rick Grimes ain’t even hungry after the huge bowl of peanut M&M’s I hear he gets at every concert. Damn primadonna.”

Rick recognized the familiar voice instantly. The sound guy. Daryl. The one who likes The Smiths. He smiled and turned back to respond. “Yeah, those guys are such assholes aren’t they?” He looked back to the cashier. “I will splurge for that milkshake, afterall.”

Daryl stepped up to the counter after Rick got his receipt and ordered a twelve-piece McNugget and a Rootbeer. “You just come from the concert?” he asked, cutting his eyes toward the cashier briefly before looking back at Rick with an ‘I’ll cover for you’ look in his eyes. 

Rick shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. Free tickets. I’d have rather seen Radiohead,” he said, pointing to the hat that he was still hiding behind. “Were you at the show?”

“Yeah. Not a big fan though. I was definitely there for WoodBurried.” Daryl flashed a quick grin and reached for his cup when the cashier handed it over. “You think that dude’s really missing an eye?” he asked.

Rick smiled. He’d wondered the same damn thing. “Well, I was almost missing an eye from stabbing myself with a pencil after the first song.” His response earned him a laugh from Daryl.

Rick rocked back and forth on his heels and clicked against one of his snakebite lip rings with his teeth as he waited for his order. “You eating here, man? Maybe we can talk about how shitty the show was and how growling isn’t really singing.”

Daryl gave Rick a terse nod as he pushed his cup under the ice dispenser. “Yeah, I can join ya, man.”

The cashier called their numbers as Daryl was filling his cup with root beer and Rick went over to grab both bags. They settled into a booth near the back of the restaurant, blocked from the view of the windows by a large square column and a trash can. Daryl opened his carton of nuggets and tossed one in his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be swanking it up with some high-class room service?”

“Have you ever eaten a hamburger that was cooked sixteen floors below you and brought up by a busboy who thinks all rockstars are shitty tippers so he takes his time and eats half your fries on the way up? The burger is cold and there are like five fries. ‘Sides. It’s lonely up there. Feels like prison. Just needed to get out.”

“Well, I don’t know how much better McDonald’s is than prison.” Daryl took a sip of his root beer and then put the cup back down on the table, fiddling with the straw and making an annoying plastic-screeching sound with it. “How’d you even get out here? Mags would pop a vein if she knew you were out by yourself.”

Rick rolled his eyes and glanced around. No one was nearby so he lifted the bill of his hat just a bit so he could talk easier. “Bribed Eugene with a double-quarter-pounder with cheese and a diet coke. And double-time. He’s out there with T in a rented Taurus, babysitting me like I’m a child.”

“Could send ‘em back to the hotel and just get a cab back with me. Complete your evening of living like the common man.”

Rick held Daryl’s glance for a moment trying to determine if he was serious. He pulled out his phone and scrolled down to Eugene’s number but before he could even push send, a sudden shadow appeared over their table. T-dog looked from one man to the other. “Daryl? ‘the fuck you doing in here? Thought I was gonna have to come in here and throat punch someone for getting too close to Midnight Quarry property.”

Rick gritted his teeth. “I’m not fucking property,” he seethed. T shrugged a bit and looked over at Daryl as he was stuffing two chicken nuggets in at once. “You know that used to be a living breathing animal, right?”

“Yeah. It didn’t die in vain. It’s delicious,” Daryl said with his mouth full as he picked up another nugget and smeared it in honey mustard sauce.

T-dog lifted a brow and chose to ignore the roadie. He looked back at Rick. “You almost done, man? Eugene is driving me fucking crazy.”

“T, I’m trying to have a normal meal out. Like a normal person with a friend. Can you please just back the fuck off. You guys can go home. Daryl and I will just grab a cab.”

T burst out laughing and then scanned the restaurant to make sure he didn’t draw any attention. “I am NOT leaving you with a roadie. It’s all fun and games until someone recognizes you and then EVERYONE recognizes you and you’d have a horde of fans on you before you could bat an eye. What’s your friend Daryl gonna do then? Hook up the mic for the evening news so we can report on your untimely demise from fan suffocation?”

Daryl snorted. “No one’s paid him a lick of attention since we walked in, T. Give the man a break. He just wants to eat a damn hamburger in peace.”

T-Dog crossed his arms and glared at Daryl for a moment, then huffed and looked at Rick. “Your call, Rick. I ain’t your mama. If you want to trust your well-being to this punk, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Rick shoved about six fries into his mouth and spoke while he chewed. “I’ll be home by one, dad.” He reached into his pocket and handed a ten to T-Dog. “Go get Eugene his reward. It’ll make your drive home a lot easier.”

T-Dog shook his head. “I’m not patronizing this establishment.”

“Then give Eugene the money and have him get it himself through the drive-thru. Come on, leave me alone, man. I just wanna sit here and eat and talk to someone who doesn’t act like all I am is Rick Fucking Grimes.”

Daryl looked from Rick back up to T-dog while he slurped obnoxiously at his root beer.

“That’s your whole problem, Rick. You ARE Rick Grimes. You can’t run away from that.” T-dog took the money and left, Rick and Daryl both watching him as he walked away.

When he was out of hearing range, Daryl grabbed a fry from Rick’s carton and popped it in his mouth. “Fuck that shit. Your stage thing is just a job. Don’t worry man, you’re you.”

Rick let out a heavy sigh as he watched the Taurus drive past them towards the drive-thru then he darted his eyes back to his dinner companion. “How’d you even fall into this line of work? How’d Maggie find you the first time we toured? Been with us for years now, right?”

“Went to school with Mags back in Georgia. Shittier school district than where you and the rest of the band went. She was friends with my older brother. I mean, I guess she still is.”

“You married?” Rick asked as he popped a few more fries in his mouth and then took a few more and tossed them into Daryl’s empty chicken nugget box.

Daryl picked up a fry absently and shoved it in his mouth, shaking his head. “Nah. Had something though for about five years. Went south over the winter though, so… not much to go back to.” Daryl looked up at Rick and ran his fingers along the condensation from his cup. “Kinda same thing happened to you.”

Rick nodded, sympathy and sincerity heavy in his eyes. “She cheat on you?”

“Well, he, but yeah. Sorry about Lori by the way. Was hard enough dealing with that shit without spotlights and media and managers and paparazzi. Jesus,” Daryl said shaking his head. “Can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

“Probably tough either way, Daryl. I would like to kinda be able to disappear though, y’know?” Rick asked, with a sad smile. “After this tour man… hang it up and go somewhere that I can get cheated on in peace.” Rick laughed awkwardly at himself. “Think that ever be possible?”

“I don’t know.” Daryl piled all the trash onto his tray. “Thing about the fans and the reporters and shit… you don’t give ‘em a story and they forget pretty fast. You’d probably have to change your name and do somethin’ about them tattoos though. Pretty recognizable.”

Rick tugged at the zipper on his jacket self-consciously at the mention of his tattoos. “Tats were such a stupid fucking thing to do. You know what that was? Shane! Fucking Shane always pushing people into shit. My own fucking fault for letting him. Talking me into the tats, pushing me into this kind of shit music.” Rick was quiet for a moment and took a sip of his melting milkshake. “Stealing my fucking wife.”

Daryl grunted and looked back at Rick, eyes narrowed in thought. “Guy like Shane is a flash in the pan. Nobody’s gonna remember him ten years from now. Not even your fucking wife.”

Rick laughed. It was probably the first time he’d smiled at the thought of Shane and Lori. But Daryl was probably right. They’d both end up miserable and alone in the long run. “She loved my tats. I actually used to like them too before it became less me and more ...him… I mean you know- my ‘stage persona,” Rick said with air quotes.

Reaching up and rubbing his own neck awkwardly, Daryl let out a little chuckle. “Don’t let Rockstar Rick ruin the things you like about yourself, dude. Those tattoos are hot- I mean cool.”

Rick blushed a bit and nodded at Daryl, considering his advice. “How are you so zen all the time? Having to deal with all of us assholes all day would drive me insane, man. How are you so… like you are?” he said motioning to Daryl with his hands.

Daryl shrugged and slid his eyes away from Rick again. “Lot a worse shit out there. I get by on the motto of shit could always be worse.”

“That sounds really-” Rick’s phone rang before he could finish his sentence and he sighed dramatically and dug it out of his pocket.

He looked at the screen and showed it to Daryl before he answered. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?” Maggie screamed into the phone. Rick held it away from his ear, slightly angled to Daryl so he could hear. “You are out by _yourself_ at a fucking McDonald’s???? Has anyone seen you?”

“I’m not alone. I’m with Daryl. The show’s over. I haven’t eaten. I came out to eat. It’s really that simple.”

“It’s NOT that simple, Rick! You know w-” suddenly her voice was gone and it was replaced by Tyreese. 

“You wanna know why? Because the tabloids would love to get pictures of you NOT celebrating with your bandmates after the first show. Pictures of you with,” Tyreese’s voice was muffled for a moment and then he came back on “having a quiet dinner with a sound guy? Do you have ANY idea what the paparazzi would do with that?”

“I don’t know, Tyreese. I’m seeing headlines like ‘Midnight Quarry Frontman is hungry’ or ‘Rick Grimes eats a burger and so does some other guy’. They would probably sell tons of magazines.” 

Daryl snickered as he took another sip of the mostly-ice in his oversized cup.

“Jesus, Rick. Magazines aren’t really a thing anymore. We are talking about the national conversation. The world wide web. It’s not just reporters, it’s fans and bloggers and…”

“Give me the phone, man,” Daryl murmured from across the table. 

Tyreese was still excitedly yammering away on the other end of the line. Rick looked at Daryl perplexed and quirked an eyebrow. He reached out the phone to hand it to Daryl, curious about what he might do with it.

Daryl took it and made a sarcastic production of putting it up to his ear and clearing his throat. He listened for a moment and then looked at it and hit END.

Rick audibly gasped. “Maggie is gonna Kick. Your. Ass.” he said slowly, his lips curling into a rare real Rick Grimes smile. Not Rick Grimes- Front man to Midnight Quarry. Just Rick Grimes- having a burger with a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next on Wednesday's update- Even more Rick and Daryl bonding!!! 
> 
> Hope you liked the beginning of their budding friendship!


	8. Walk With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d. More bonding ahead!

Daryl knew Rick was right. Maggie _was_ going to kick his ass. He sucked grease off his fingers, pulled out his own phone and tapped out a quick text message. 

_Mags- He’s fine. Let the man blow off some steam with an innocent burger. I’ll have him back at the hotel in 30._

As he tapped into his phone, Rick nervously scraped his teeth along one of his snakebite lip rings then started laundry-listing what was most likely going on back at the Ritz Carlton. 

“She’s probably pacing. You know that pacing thing she does?”   
Pause. 

“I bet she’s yelling at someone. She’s probably yelling at Tyreese.”   
Pause. 

“I wonder what her face looked like when Ty said we hung up.”   
Pause. 

“I bet she’s yelling at T-dog as we speak.” Rick took a last sip of his milkshake. His eyes darted around the restaurant. As Daryl tucked his phone back in his pocket, Rick asked, “What should we do now?”

Daryl shrugged, stood up and took their trays to the trash. “Get a cab?”

Rick stood, pulling his phone back out. He looked at it then looked back to Daryl and started laughing. “I don’t know how to look up a number for a cab, man. Maggie programmed all you guys in the phone. I don’t even know how to get on the internet with this thing.”

“You are self-taught to shred like that on the electric guitar and you haven’t taught yourself how to hit the browser button on your cell phone?” Daryl asked with a huge grin.

“Dude, I been busy.”

The roadie laughed as they walked past a few teens that were staring a little too long at Rick.

“You know cell phones have been out for like twenty years, right?” Daryl tried to line up a little in front of Rick to block him from the view of the table of suspicious eyes but it was too late.

“Hey, man. You look just like Rick Grimes,” the boy at the end of the table shouted. 

Daryl put a hand protectively on Rick’s elbow, not even sure where that kind of reflex came from. Rick looked back as they continued to head for the door. “Ain’t the first time I got that insult, brother. Sucks to be me, right?” Daryl snickered at the lead singer’s attempt to deliver that sentence in a british accent.

“I think he’s hot,” one of the giggling young girls said as they walked away. They’d clearly avoided suspicion but before they got through the doors, the last words echo’d over from the nearly empty restaurant.

“Drummer’s hotter. Even Grimes’ wife thinks so,” the other girl at the table said to her friends.

Daryl decided to pretend he didn’t hear it for Rick’s sake although he was certain Rick heard it himself.

“Only five or six blocks. Wanna walk back instead?” Daryl asked. 

“ _Walk_?” Rick asked excitedly. He straightened his hunched shoulders and his suddenly sombre aura lit back up.

Daryl chuckled. “You look so excited, dude. Just to walk a few blocks.”

The lead singer took a deep breath of fresh air and grinned at Daryl. “Do you know how long it’s been since I just went for a stroll?” Daryl pointed in the direction of the hotel and Rick headed towards it. 

Rick watched the traffic and nodded at passers-by keeping his hat low. He looked over at Daryl with a huge grin. “My life is so pathetic that taking a walk in downtown San Francisco has the same level of excitement as a roller coaster.” The lead singer kicked at a pebble and stopped to watch it roll off the curb and fall into a gutter. “Everyone wants to be a rockstar, you know. In high school. All of us that played or sang. Got together in each other's garages. That was the dream. Big stage. Millions of fans. Money. Fame.” Rick stopped again and looked back at his companion. “You know what the dream is now? McDonald’s. And going for a walk with someone.”

“Well ‘ _The dream_ ’ ain’t always everyone’s dream I guess,” Daryl said as he bit on the straw he’d held onto from his soda.

“Gonna be a boring fucking two months, man.” Rick hesitated before he finished his thought and he looked over at Daryl. “Used to have Lori with me after the show. Someone to share that energy with after. Someone that was just there every night. Gonna be weird without her.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Will be, I’m sure.”

Rick shoved his hands in his pockets and took another deep breath of fresh air as a car with a loud bass beat drove by them. “You busy tomorrow? Wanna mix it up and do a BK in Albuquerque?”

“Tomorrow’s Reno, moron. Don’t you get the daily briefings from Maggie?” Daryl laughed. 

“I made a paper airplane out of it,” Rick answered flatly. They stopped at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change.

“You don’t have to be bored, y’know. Rock gods got options lined up outside the bus every time we pull into a new town,” Daryl said with a friendly shoulder bump.

Rick laughed. “You mean like groupies? No fucking way. Not into that shit. I liked being married.” The light changed and they continued to make their way across the street. “I mean I think I liked it. You know what, Daryl? Sometimes I really have trouble remembering the last time I was REALLY happy. Honest to God. I can’t remember.” Rick looked up at the hotel they were staying at then back to the roadie, nodding up the street to indicate a longer walk and Daryl followed as they strolled past the Ritz. “I know you’re all zen. But are you happy? Do you remember the last time you were really truly happy?”

Daryl tried to think. Definitely not childhood, that was for fucking sure. Not the past few recent years with G. Hindsight was killer and the more Daryl let his thoughts wander back to it, the more he saw G looking at other guys, losing interest and basically just using Daryl for a place to live. Maybe after his pop died and Merle was raising him- pre-teen Daryl with a badass older brother as his legal guardian. There were some good memories there and Daryl started to smile.

“There was this one time in high school,” Daryl started. “My brother was my guardian by then and I got suspended for smoking in the bathroom. They call Merle to come pick me up, right? He pulls up on his Harley. I walk out there and Merle pulls out his pack of cigs shakes one out and offers it to me! Right in front of Principle Mamet! I lit up. Climbed on the back and we just road all over that day. Went out to this lake we like to fish at and sat in the grass skipping stones cause we didn’t have the fishing gear.” Daryl’s voice faded as he drifted off remembering Merle that day. He couldn’t even quite remember how the conversation went, but Daryl had stopped smoking after that. Merle did too. Daryl had never thought about the irony of how Merle was basically telling the principal to fuck off and then immediately convincing Daryl to do what the principal had wanted in the first place.

“He sounds cool, man. I’m jealous. Only child,” Rick said pointing to himself.

And before Rick could even start to think about one of his own happy memories, he was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. He answered the call and started talking immediately as both men nodded at each other in understanding and turned to head back towards the Ritz. “I’m ten steps away. Don’t panic,” and he hung up before Maggie could say anything further. 

“You gotta have something you remember feeling really happy about,” Daryl pushed as the Ritz came back into sight.

Rick smiled at the ground watching his own footsteps as a memory came into focus. “Walking into a pawn shop with money I saved from mowing lawns and buying that cherry red Gibson I’d been walking past every day after school. Sat in my room every night for months with that thing. Just me and her.”

Daryl smiled at Rick. His fondest memory was being alone. That was sad, Daryl thought. That was downright heartbreaking.

As they got to the front doors, T-Dog grabbed Rick’s arm. “You know how long I had to listen to Maggie’s ranting, goddamnit, Grimes!” 

“Thanks for the walk, Daryl,” Rick said before he was managed and handled and shuffled into the building. As they all stood at the far bank of lesser-used elevators Rick asked “Hey, how’d you know I was self-taught?”

“Read the biography, man,” Daryl smiled. “Think I’m gonna take the stairs. Tell Mags I’m sorry for kidnapping you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up… time to get back on the bus! But ummm…it’s not going to go smoothly!


	9. Say The Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG!!! Guys!! This fic is now being beta’d!! Thanks to StylePoints for her first time beta’ing! She did a great job helping me clean this thing up!!

The next morning Rick climbed on the bus and plopped down in his usual spot. He was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of Maggie making sure everything was ready to haul out to Reno. 

“Where the hell is Walsh?” she shouted over the dull thuds of Morales and Eugene tossing suitcases into the luggage hold. 

“Want me to go check his room?” Glenn asked, always trying to be a help. Maggie brushed him off and dialed her phone as Tyrese climbed on board. He leaned over to Maggie and whispered to her. And her face went white. Then it quickly went red. She hit end on her phone and pushed past Tyrese, heading to the bus door like a lion on it’s way to a kill. Before she could reach the door, Shane climbed in nonchalantly and as casual as ever. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Maggie yelled, just as Rick’s phone started to ring. Shane just stood there smiling his standard cocky smirk that he thought could get him out of any trouble.

Rick looked down at his cell phone.  
_Lori Calling_  
He furrowed his brows and hit ignore.

“What happened?” Glenn whispered to Tyrese as the publicist typed frantic on his cell. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he answered without looking up. Maggie was blocking Shane’s entrance into the main room of the bus and whispering with venom.

Rick’s phone dinged with a text and he looked down at it, already exhausted after only being awake for 45 minutes.

_Rick, I’m sorry to bother you and I know this is probably in bad taste. But I need to talk to Shane and he’s not answering his phone._

Rick looked back up to the quiet, angry whispers Maggie was exchanging with Shane, her body still angled to keep him from moving.

“What the fuck is this about?” Rick asked with a half-hearted sigh. So much bullshit. Always with Shane. Always with this life. 

“Nothing,” Maggie and Shane shouted at the same time. Rick looked up to Tyrese and grabbed the cell right out of his hands.

He turned to block Tyrese from grabbing it back and looked at the screen- the start of a press release in Google Docs-

_...wild rumors of drummer, Shane Walsh, sharing pornographic videos of himself with lead singer, Rick Grimes’ soon-to-be ex-wife. The video was leaked after Walsh mistakenly sent the video to several young groupies at a San Francisco hotel after the first show of the Midnight Quarry 2016 reunion tour-”_

Tyrese finally wrestled the phone back as Rick stood. Maggie already had her hand out towards him in a stop motion. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Rick said as he pressed passed Tyreese. Glenn grabbed his arm and tried his best to keep the frontman from moving closer to Shane.

“Hey man,” the bassist pleaded, “Whatever it is, just ignore-”

Rick shoved Glenn hard knocking him to the ground as he pushed past Andrea and aimed straight for Shane. The hungover drummer backed out of the bus as Tyreese shouted “Not in public! Not in public!” 

Everyone clamoured out of the bus as Rick advanced on Shane, pulled back his fist and connected with the drummer’s nose. Shane stumbled to stay on his legs and brought a hand to his bloodied face. “Motherfucker. It was a fucking accident-” 

Before Rick could advance on him again he felt strong arms behind him wrapping around his chest. “Let it go, man. Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Daryl whispered. T-dog appeared suddenly out of breath from running to the bus. He grabbed Shane’s forearm before the drummer could move. Shane struggled against T-dog’s firm grip. “Get the fuck off me, man. This is bullshit! Lori ain’t even his problem no more. Plus that video could be anyone, it’s shitty quality.”

“On the bus. Right. The fuck. Now,” Maggie hissed. Everyone climbed back in as Tyreese glanced around the private back entrance. They got lucky no reporters or fans were nearby. T-dog dragged Shane in and Daryl loosened his grip and put a friendly hand on Rick’s shoulder to guide him back up the steps. 

“Please don’t bleed on the upholstery,” Eugene muttered as they all sifted into seats, Daryl sitting on the aisle next to Rick to keep him as far away from the fray as he could.

Everyone was talking at once. “Oh dude! I just got it,” Andrea said as she looked at her phone, the sounds of sex coming from her cell phone speakers. Glenn and Axel were both asking Maggie what happened. Shane was ranting and raving about feeling dizzy from the blood loss. Finally Maggie shouted above everything. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Everyone did. She looked at Tyreese. “How are you fixing this?” She asked succinctly. 

“Calling it a rumor. No definitive evidence that the woman in the picture is Lori Grimes. No one on the bus has even paid the story any attention. The first show of the tour went off great and the entire tour is now sold out.” He was still tapping into his phone as he spoke.

“Good enough. Shane- Stop being such a sleazy asshole, I’m begging you. Rick- Ignore his bullshit. He just-”

“Ignore his bullshit? What the fuck Maggie! He violated my wife’s privacy.”

“Ex-wife,” Shane murmured as he held a bloody rag to his nose. 

Rick stood and fought past Daryl to get out of his seat. “I’m not riding in this bus. Fuck this. Fuck him Maggie! I can NOT do it.”

“Rick, you can’t quit, man. You are under contract. Don’t do this to yourself,” Maggie said, trying desperately to sound more sympathetic than pissed and failing miserably.

“Not gonna quit on the fans but I’m not riding anywhere with this dirtbag. Daryl kept a hand on Rick’s shoulder as they walked by Shane. “You can ride with me, man. I got room,” Daryl offered. 

“Fine.”  
_____________

Rick was in Daryl’s vehicle waiting and watching as Maggie and Tyreese babbled at the poor guy for a good ten minutes, like a married couple leaving instructions for the sitter. Daryl just nodded and Rick was fairly certain he wasn’t actually listening to a word of whatever they were saying. Daryl wasn’t like everyone else. He saw Rick. He didn’t treat him like priceless china. Didn’t try to manipulate him. Just… he just was a good person. The tension in the pit of Rick’s stomach was starting to subside as Daryl started walking back to the vehicle with a grin. He climbed into the cab of the truck. “I’m supposed to tell you a bunch of shit but truth be told I wasn’t really listening and I’d probably fuck the message all up anyways. So uh…” Daryl shrugged and yanked at his seatbelt. “Buckle up. Next stop Reno.” 

Daryl said nothing as they pulled out of the hotel. He didn’t ask questions or give a pep talk. No “handling” or “managing”, just fucking blissful quiet. Rick looked out the window and zoned out, ignoring the repeated dings from the cell that was tucked in his pants pocket.

After a while, Daryl reached for the radio dial and gave Rick a glance before he clicked it on. “Care if I put on some music?”

Rick looked over at him. “It’s your truck. I’m the guest. You do what you want, man. I appreciate the ride.”

Daryl turned the music on and searched stations until a Mumford and Sons song came on. He left it on low and hummed along to it as they took an exit onto I-80 East. After another ten minutes Rick finally broke. “Aren’t you gonna ask what happened?”

Daryl shrugged. “I’m guessing Shane was a dick and had that punch comin’. Am I right?”

Rick nodded. He pulled his phone out and looked at the string of texts.

_7:02 a.m. Rick- I can’t believe what Shane’s done to me. You were right all along. He’s a complete shitheel._

_7:27 a.m. I owe you an apology. I fucked up. I miss you, Rick._

_7:29 a.m. Please call me back._

Rick clicked his phone off and stuffed it back in his pocket. “They paying you extra for babysitting?

Daryl barked out a laugh. “Nah, man. It's nice to have the company to be honest. Yesterday every single station was playing the same Nickleback song. I considered suicide.”

Rick laughed. It wasn't a full laugh. Not the kind of laugh he had back in high school or back before they made it big. It was just a soft rumble, but it was something. “Yeah, I met that guy a couple times, y’know. He's a dick.”

“Most of ‘em are,” Daryl said then winced at the implication. “Well, I mean… You seem cool.”

Rick smiled. “You seem cool too, Daryl. Maybe we can pretend this is just a couple buddies on a road trip. Seeing America. Not thinking about anything else till we have to.”

They were silent through the chorus of _White Blank Page_ , a song Rick wasn’t completely familiar with, but he liked the mellow sound of it.

“You ever been to Lake Tahoe?” Daryl asked, looking over at Rick with sympathy in his eyes.

Rick met his gaze and his lips slowly curled into a rare grin. “No, man. Heard its amazing though.”

Daryl grinned back. “Show ain't til 9 and Reno’s only a few hours away. Wanna get lost?”

“Fuck yeah,” Rick answered. “Let's miss our exit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up on Monday: Rick and Daryl miss their exit!!!


	10. Beside the Dying Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to stylepoints for her beta job! I’m so glad to have another set of eyes on this thing!

The lake was as beautiful as Daryl remembered from a couple years ago when he took the same detour during the same leg of the tour. At a rustic storefront, he left Rick in the passenger seat, ran into the tackle shop and sprung for two basic poles and a styrofoam cup of worms. Daryl navigated the truck into a tucked away parking spot and led the way through the woods to the lake.

“But why can’t I at least pay for my pole?” Rick whined again as he followed Daryl. 

“It’s a gift, ok?” Daryl held some low branches back and nodded his head for Rick to walk past him.

“For what?”

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. When’s your birthday?”

“Two months ago,” Rick laughed.

“Well, then it’s way overdue. You’re only gonna use it this once anyway. Axel will probably be the one using it next time I’m looking to kill a little time.”

The lake came into view as Daryl watched Rick, walking ahead of him, step out of the thick overgrowth and onto the hidden section of beach.

“I might like fishing!” Rick protested, stopping dead in his tracks on the sandy bank of the lake. Daryl walked up by his side, fishing poles and the cup of worms in his hand. They stood silent as they both gazed from one end of the crystal clear lake to the other. The sun was warm on Daryl’s skin, he felt it on his arms and his face. The sky was bright and cloudless. It was so quiet. No boats on this end of the lake, no people, just the soft splashes of water lapping at the shoreline. 

“This is beautiful,” Rick whispered. 

“Beats the creeks and shit back in Senoia, that’s for damn sure,” Daryl added. He pulled a pack of hooks he’d bought out of his pocket and got Rick’s fishing rod ready with a worm curled up and in place. He flung the rod back and cast it out then handed it to Rick. “Go on, sit down. You wanted to know how I stay zen. Here’s how.” Daryl then fumbled with his own hook as the lead singer plopped down on a rock that jutted out from the end of the surrounding woods. After Daryl’s line was cast, he sat nearby in the damp sand and dirt, always most comfortable closest to nature.

They didn’t talk for a long while. They just relaxed and listened to the water and the occasional cry of one bird searching for another. “Never been fishing,” Rick said quietly.

“Old man never took you fishing?” Daryl asked with surprise. “That ain’t American.”

Rick laughed and tugged a little at his line. “He was busy.”

“Ah,” Daryl responded. “One of those. Always too busy. No wonder there wasn’t much about it in your biography.” 

Rick laughed and shook his head. “I can’t believe you read that, man. ‘S embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing about it?” Daryl asked as he felt a nip at his line, tugged at it and then felt it go slack as the fish escaped.

“Not my idea to do it, Tyreese made me. Capitalizing on my popularity at the time. The guy that wrote it, that Reg guy, he didn’t even really talk to me all that much.”

“He get any of it wrong?” Daryl asked, as he started reeling in his line to check on the bait. 

Rick shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t read it.”

Daryl looked at the naked hook as he reeled it out of the water and turned to Rick. “Mostly just facts and dates and types of guitars,” Daryl laughed. “Didn’t even mention, like, your inspiration or if this was what you always wanted to do. None of the human interest stuff, y’know?” Daryl grabbed another worm and threaded it onto his hook.

“So, like, who was your inspiration, man? Your fans want to know,” Daryl chided.

“Oh, you're a fan now? I thought you were just here for WoodBurried,” Rick laughed.

“Oh yeah, no. I’m not a fan. Just like learning about people’s motivations. Hearing stories. Ain’t asking for the Midnight Quarry angle. Y’all are too angry for me,” Daryl joked.

“Fuck you,” Rick laughed.

“See what I mean?” 

Suddenly Rick’s arms were tugged forward. “You got something, dude!” Daryl said excitedly. “Reel it in!”

Rick fought with the rod, holding it awkwardly as it bounced and twisted, fighting more than necessary with the handle on the reel. “Tug then reel, tug then reel,” Daryl encouraged. 

“I can’t man! I think it’s a whale!” Rick laughed as he struggled with winding in the line. A sharp tug from the fish pulled Rick unsteadily forward and he stumbled over his own two feet, Daryl grabbing at his elbow to help him get back up.

“Like this,” Daryl said, showing him the tug and reel motion with his own fishing rod. Rick floundered with it, his movements too jerky and his excitement too distracting.

Finally, Daryl stepped behind him and held his hands over Rick’s. It wasn’t until he was firmly holding the rod with Rick that it dawned on him the move may be a little overly intimate, but Rick didn’t seem to flinch away. “It’s gonna break the string!” he shouted.

“Line,” Daryl corrected, helping Rick to tug and wind in the way he had been trying to explain. After a few tugs, Rick seemed to get it so Daryl slipped his arms away and let Rick do the honors as a good-sized lake trout was heaved out of the water. 

“Holy shit!” Rick shouted. 

“Keep reeling, keep reeling,” Daryl encouraged. “That’s a big one, man! That’s dinner!”

_____________

Back up near the mountain road where the truck was, Daryl used some camping gear he always kept on hand to set up a spit and start a fire so they could cook Rick’s catch. 

“Are we really gonna eat that?” Rick asked, sitting on a log and looking incredibly out of place but content in the wilderness. 

“What else did you want to do with it? Give it cymbals and put it on stage in Reno? Of course we’re gonna eat it. Ain’t catching fish just to torture ‘em. Christ, T-dog would have a coronary.”

“Are you insinuating that being on stage with me is worse torture than being eaten?” 

The fire popped as Daryl spun the fish to make sure the underside was properly cooked. He wanted to make sure this was the best fish Rick ever ate in his life. Wanted him to be proud of his catch. Maybe even feel happy about it. For whatever reason he’d become acutely invested in Rick’s happiness. He remembered the smile that had appeared on his lips when Daryl suggested walking home the night before and the sheer joy at reeling in a fish. That joy was something Daryl would love to be able to give the guy more of. Rick seemed to have the same appreciation for simple pleasures that Daryl had. Hell, probably even more so, since he was so sheltered in the rockband bubble.

“I’m just saying… ain’t the lyrics to _Slabtown_ about skinning the flesh off a human being while they’re still alive?”

Rick shook his head and groaned. “It’s supposed to be symbolic. Like about who we really are on the inside.”

Daryl looked up at Rick over the crackling fire pit. “You write that one?” 

Rick sulked. “No. I think I’m just hoping it’s supposed to be symbolic.”

“You really gonna get out of this game after the tour, man?” Daryl asked as he used a few well-chosen twigs to remove the fish from the spit, putting half on each of the tin plates he had. He and Axel had used them for this very thing a few times in the past years. He handed one of the plates to Rick.

“Yes,” he answered definitively as he reached for the plate. “Gonna find some nowhere place and settle down. Write and play my own music. Just me and an acoustic. Just disappear into small clubs and be happy.”

“Good plan,” Daryl said as he used his fingers to eat a bite of the fish. 

Rick was watching Daryl and he mimicked him, pinching some of his catch between his thumb and pointer finger and popping it in his mouth.

“Oh my God, this is the fucking best fish I’ve ever tasted in all my life,” Rick groaned. His bright eyes were wide with excitement and bluer than the deepest parts of Lake Tahoe.

Daryl smiled. “Don’t get much fresher than pulling the fucker out of the lake yourself.”

They ate for a while in companionable silence. Daryl was enjoying their moments of shared quiet. It was comfortable.

“What are you gonna do when the tour’s over?” Rick asked as he sucked at a bone, hollowing his cheeks out in a sinful display that he probably didn’t even know was incredibly sexy.

Daryl shrugged. “Hey, you gonna judge me if I literally lick this plate?” he asked. It really was damn good. 

Rick laughed and talked with the fish bone still between his teeth. “I’ve been licking at bones for half an hour. I don’t have a right to judge anyone’s table manners.” 

Daryl resisted making innuendo out of licking bones. He wasn’t sure why. He did that with Morales and Axel all the time. Rick was really no different. Was Daryl holding back because Rick was famous? God, he hoped not. He liked that Rick enjoyed being treated like just one of the guys. Regardless, Daryl took Rick’s response as the permission it was and he licked at the plate, then dropped it by his feet and leaned back on the heels of his palms looking up at the canopy of trees above them.

“How’d that brother of yours end up being your guardian?” Rick asked, his voice very careful and soft, with an underlying understanding that if Daryl didn’t want to talk about it, he was free to redirect the conversation.

Daryl looked at him. “My mother died when I was a toddler. My pa died when I was ten. Merle was quite a bit older. Eighteen by the time it was just us. Don’t really know how he managed to keep me from going into foster care to be honest. By that time he’d been in and out of juvi a half dozen times. Car theft. Drugs.”

“Must have done good by ya. Looks like you turned out ok,” Rick said as he licked his own plate, putting an instant smile on Daryl’s face.

Daryl shrugged. “He did good by me. But I ruined his life.”

Rick cocked his head and put his plate on the ground at his feet. “Oh yeah? How’d ya do that?” He seemed genuinely interested. 

Daryl darted his eyes away from Rick and focused on a ladybug that landed on his own forearm. 

“Well, I mean… he was eighteen. He should have been out having a good time. Hanging with friends, whatever. Instead he was home taking care of me. Had to keep his nose clean or else child services would come for me. We didn’t have a good pa. And I think Merle wanted to make sure I didn’t end up anywhere I’d get beat again.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, man,” Rick said.

Daryl shrugged. “Over now. That’s in the past. Just wish I could give Merle some of his life back.”

“Sounds like you did him more good than harm. Kept him out of trouble, right?”

Daryl shrugged again and put his index finger in the way of the scurrying ladybug so that it crawled inadvertently onto his finger. “Been taking care of me ever since. Just this past winter I called into work sick. He took my shift at the garage we was working at. Lift malfunctioned. Lost a hand, man. Sheared clean off.”

“Ouch,” Rick responded.

“Yeah,” Daryl said as he watch the ladybug finally fly away.

“So… is that story supposed to imply that you think it’s your fault that the garage had faulty equipment?” Rick asked, elbows now on his knees and leaning in towards the dying fire and Daryl across from it.

“Wouldn’t have happened to him if I’d have gone in,” Daryl simply said.

Rick was quiet a moment and Daryl felt the man’s eyes looking him over, like he was trying to understand Daryl better just by getting a closer look of him visually.

“I wasn’t really sick. I was home pouting because Guillermo, that was my boyfriend I told you about, he left me the night before. If I wasn’t such a pussy moping and feeling sorry for myself, Merle would have both his hands right now.”

“I didn’t even get out of bed for a week after I found out about Shane and Lori,” Rick said. “Don’t make you a pussy. Makes you human. It hurts, man.”

Daryl shrugged and poured some of his bottled water over the red ashes still flickering in the fire pit. 

“Does _he_ blame you for it? “ Rick asked. “Is he pissed? Depressed?”

Daryl laughed. “You’ve clearly never met Merle. He don’t get depressed. He sued the company that made the lifts and it looks like he’s gonna win. And he’s super excited that he might be able to get a prosthetic like a hook.”

“So he doesn’t blame you?”

“No, man.”

“Then why are you blaming you?” Rick asked, brows furrowed in question and sincere curiosity in his tone.

Daryl looked at Rick and blinked. He stood and picked up both their plates and the rods next to them.

“We better load up and get going. We’re out of cell phone service and Mags and Ty are gonna start getting antsy.” Daryl liked helping Rick buck the system a bit. But he did genuinely like Maggie. And he sympathized with her. She had a hard job, of that he had no doubt.

“Yeah,” Rick groaned. “You’re right.” Before they climbed into the truck Daryl opened the styrofoam cup of worms and Rick watched as he dumped them out on the forest floor. 

“It’s your lucky day, fellas. You’ve been pardoned by the state of Nevada. You’re free to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm… guess what? More bonding on Wednesday! And another concert! And some more Shane-anigans!


	11. Bloodletting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Stylepoints for beta’ing! And thanks to all for the comments, kudos and encouragement!

By the time they got to Reno, Daryl was hopeful that Rick would want to keep riding with him instead of on the bus. The drive was nice with someone to talk to. The stop at Tahoe was great and Daryl realized he was right all this time about Rick being just one of the guys. Daryl enjoyed his company and it seemed like Rick enjoyed spending time with Daryl as well. The guy really seemed to appreciate all these simple things that Daryl could provide; a dinner companion, a walk downtown, some fishing. Rick was like a kid at Christmas over these everyday things, all smiles and excitement. It kind of made Daryl feel important to have someone that wanted to spend time with him like that. Like Daryl’s company was worth something. He was friends with the crew, sure. But with Rick… It was like the man was looking for more of a connection than just on the surface. Rick Grimes had a lonely life. Daryl wasn’t even sure if the man knew it yet or not, but he needed a friend. And Daryl was glad to show him how nice it was to just be able to relax and have fun with someone.

Daryl and the crew got the stage set up fairly quickly now that they had one show under their belts. The arena was larger than San Francisco and there was a lot of excitement in the hotel. Daryl passed several groups of kids on the way to his room that were clearly there to attend the concert later.

He flopped down on his bed and called his brother. The line rang three times before Merle finally answered. “You wanna know what sucks about lawyers?” he grumbled without the customary hello.

“What's that, Merle?”

“Shit takes forever.”

“So no news on your case?”

“Oh there’s news. The news is there's no news. And you wanna know how much that call to be told there is no news is gonna cost?”

“I can send some-”

Merle interrupted with a bark of laughter. “Nah, baby brother. I got this. Got myself some disability checks coming my way, unemployment. I been makin’ the system work for me. Don't you worry ‘bout ol’ Merle. How’s things at the top? How's that sexy background broad? You gonna make an exception for that pussy if she offers, boy?”

“She's not just a broad. She sings and plays keyboards. And dude- I ain't getting near that shit. Not my type. Even if I was straight. Hell Rick ain't even interested in tapping that.”

“Rick? You buddied up with the lead now? Oh my GOD! Are you gonna fuck him!?”

Daryl put his fingers to his temples and rubbed, then answered, “No idiot. This isn't a traveling orgy. It's a band. We all actually have to work, you know.”

“Seen that dude’s wife banging the drummer on YouTube today,” Merle said.

“Don't believe everything you see on the Internet, Merle. You can't tell who that is. Video’s too grainy.”

“So how’s everything with that? Rick Grimes just takin’ it?”

“What’s he supposed to do? She ain’t his problem no more. Plus you don’t even know if it’s her.”

Merle laughed again, way happier than Daryl would have expected from someone who had recently lost a hand. “You getting lonely out there?” Merle asked, the harshness gone from his tone and honest worry in his voice.

“This where you remind me about what a dick G was and that there’s more fish in the sea?” Daryl knew it was. But he also knew Merle would never admit it.

“Nah, man. This is where I tell ya about how good I got at jackin’ it with my left hand.”

A knock at Daryl's door rescued him from having to respond to Merle's masturbatory accomplishments.

“Someone at the door, bro. I gotta go,” he said, as he rolled off the bed.

“Hey, wait! Do them groupies come in gay too? You getting any? Cause you're single now.”

Daryl sighed and tried not to laugh. Merle would always be Merle. He meant well and he loved Daryl, of that there was never any doubt. But, Christ, he was a pig. “Gotta go, Merle. I'll call you when I hit Albuquerque.” 

Daryl looked through the peephole to see a Radiohead baseball cap and when he opened the door Rick slinked in, a jar of peanut M&M’s under one arm.

The lead singer slouched onto the couch popping M&M’s one after the other. “Bored,” he said by way of greeting.

Daryl stuck his hand in the jar and grabbed a fistful of chocolate candies, checking his watch before he dropped them in his mouth. “Hour til practice. You gonna be ok?” The roadie sat at the end of his bed indian-style waiting for Rick’s response.

“You know when I turned my phone back on I had fourteen texts from Lori?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Saying what?”

“Take a guess,” Rick said as he motioned towards Daryl with an orange M&M.

“She wants you back,” Daryl said, already knowing he was right.

“Yup. And five of those texts were trying to goad me into defending her honor by kicking Shane’s ass.”

“You want her back?” Daryl asked, trying not to make any judgements.

Rick stopped chewing. “Fuck no,” he said with his mouth full. “Gonna be a loner after this shit is over. It’s my new life’s dream.”

Daryl grinned and shook his head. “Not very good practice at being a loner to come looking for company because you’re too bored to sit in your room for an hour.”

Rick laughed. “I’m a slow learner. I’ll get there. Hey- that fishing was great today, huh? I think that’s the most fresh air I’ve had in ten years!”

“Seemed happy out there, man.”

Rick put the lid back on the M&M’s and cocked his head in thought. “Yeah, guess I was.” He popped a final M&M in his mouth and looked back to Daryl. “Did I just barge in and interrupt? You got like pre-show rituals you gotta tend to?”

“You mean like puking?” Daryl asked with a wide grin.

Rick laughed. “Yeah. Need me to hold your hair back or anything?”

“Actually you just saved my ass from going down a TMI road with Merle that I didn't want to be on.”

Rick put his feet up on the coffee table, getting comfortable. “That's sweet that you check in on him so much.”

Daryl walked over from the bed and flopped down in the opposite chair and clicked on the TV. “Eh. Wish I could give him even half what he gave me. Got saddled with me so young. I mean custody when he was eighteen, but he was really all I had since the day I was born. And still feels like he’s gotta take care of me. So I try to take care of him back best I can.” He flipped channels aimlessly, finally landing on a Twilight Zone marathon.

“Ohhh. Twilight Zone,” they both murmured at the same time.

Rick smiled at Daryl. “Best show ever.”

Daryl shook his head. “Second best. MASH was first.”

“I concede. I’ll give you MASH,” Rick responded. They watched for a few minutes in silence. 

“Guillermo hated MASH,” Daryl mumbled.

“What a dick,” Rick said, eliciting a snort of laughter from Daryl. 

“I mean seriously, who doesn’t like MASH? Merle and I probably sat through MASH Marathons for entire weekends like at least a dozen times. I can do all the BJ lines and he can do all the Hawkeye.”

“Merle sounds cool, man.” Rick couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone like that. Someone just to sit around and watch tv shows with. Someone who cared. Rick never realized it before, but he was lonely. Lori filled a void in his life all those years. His parents were never really present. He had no siblings. His friends were mostly just his friends because he was in a band. Everyone wanted to be friends with the lead singers of up and coming bands. And once he made it big all he had left was Shane. And then after the shit with Lori last year… he’s had nothing, no one. And with Shane, there was never any casual hanging out like that. It was always the band… the band… the band. 

Daryl looked over at his new friend. “We go to Atlanta in a few days. Got a three-day break there. Merle’s a huge fan. Would you mind if I got him backstage?”

Rick sat up and leaned forward. “Your brother is a huge fan?” he laughed. “Really?”

Daryl shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I don’t get it either. But he’s got all your albums and sings Midnight Quarry at Karaoke all the damn time.”

“Yeah, man,” Rick answered, then suddenly for some reason very concerned about whether or not Merle would like him, he continued, “Hope he doesn’t think I’m an asshole or anything.”

“You?” Daryl laughed. “He’s the asshole. He won’t be a problem though. I can assure you he won’t be fawning over you cause you’re famous. He’ll treat you just like anyone else.” 

“That’s great,” Rick said. “I like him already.”

“Yeahhh… Reserve your judgement.”

\--------------

Practice in Reno was uneventful. Rick hadn’t spared Shane so much as a single glance. When the show started, they played hard and loud like always. The crowd knew the lyrics like always. And for a few moments, somewhere in the middle when Rick was playing some of the guitar solos that he actually liked, he enjoyed himself.

Then, like always, it all came crashing down at the end. The encore was _Go For the Jugular,_ and Rick made the mistake of looking back to each of his bandmates before the lights shined back on them to start their final song. “Only a few more weeks of this shit to go,” Rick said off-mic. 

Shane’s glare pissed Rick off without words even being exchanged. The result was probably a fantastic close for the fans since they played angry and hard. But as soon as the lights were out and the band was off stage, the fighting started again. It came out of nowhere really. But it certainly wasn’t the first time the two started a brawl that no one could really trace back to a solid reason. 

“You know you’re just using this bullshit with Lori to back out of the band. This is my LIFE, Rick!” Shane shouted as he walked quickly up to the lead singer.

“Lori was MY life-”

Shane squared his shoulders and pushed against Rick’s chest to back him up in the small hallway between the stage and the dressing rooms.

“She was fucking not! You guys were on your way out and you know it-”

“Why’d you fuck her, Shane? To get back at me because I wanted to change things? Because I _talked_ about leaving the band? Because I hate your shitty fucking lyrics!?”

“Guys...Guys” Glenn tried his best to diffuse the situation, but he was the skinniest and the smallest and tempers were up. His gentle hand on Rick’s shoulder did, however, make the lead singer hesitate before advancing on Shane. The poor kid meant well. T-dog arrived out of nowhere and grabbed Shane’s arms from behind. 

“Should have BEEN my lyrics. Didn’t need you to start out with. This should have been MY band. It was MY idea. It was MY dream. I was lead singer when we started. Coulda sang myself from drums and now this whole thing hangs on _Rick Fucking Grimes_ lead singer and if you leave you destroy everything.”

“No one is leaving anywhere tonight,” Maggie screamed. 

“You hold this whole band hostage because you’re a selfish asshole, Rick. You know that?”

Glenn slid in between the two. “Shane, antagonizing him like this isn’t going to convince him to stay.”

“It’s always Rick’s way. This whole band-”

“MY fucking way? You think I wanna be screaming out these shitty lyrics? I’ve given you ten years of my life already! AND MY FUCKING WIFE!” Rick lunged at Shane and the two fell to the floor, T-dog and Glenn coming down like dominos on top of them.

By the time everyone was pulled apart, Rick had a bruise forming over his right eye, Shane’s lip was bleeding and Glenn was hobbling on a twisted ankle. As Rick walked down the hall to his dressing room, Andrea trying to guide him away from a ranting Shane, he noticed several cell phones and flashes. Rick burst into his room and turned back to shut the door as Andrea was trying to follow him in. 

“Rick-”

“Don’t want to fucking talk, Andrea. Get the fuck out!” Rick shouted to the sounds of iphones clicking pictures. He slammed the door and kicked the jar of peanut M&Ms off the dresser, shards of glass and colored chocolates flying everywhere. He tossed himself onto the couch and listened to the beat of his heart thudding against the leather cushions. It was bunny-rabbit fast but as the minutes passed by it slowed to a strong, steady beat. He breathed in and he breathed out and he went through the cities in his head. San Francisco and Reno are done. Now Phoenix, Albuquerque, Austin, Little Rock… Jesus. Twenty-five more of these to go.

Rick reached over for a backpack he always brought down with him and he put on his headphones. He pressed play on his iphone and Radiohead came on. Before he knew it, the tension in his shoulders was gone and he was drifting off to sleep.

When he finally woke from the sound of his own growling belly, he checked his watch and an hour had passed. As he sat up he remembered his initial outburst and he sulked at the sight of M&Ms and a thousand shards of glass spread across the dressing room floor. 

He walked, careful of his steps, to the door and listened to make sure it was quiet before he opened it and walked out. The backstage hallway was empty, so quiet it was almost eerie and Rick walked down it to the soft sound of his own footsteps. He heard the sounds of teardown on stage and followed the noise. Most of the speakers and equipment had been taken down and Daryl was on his knees by the row of guitars that Rick used for each show. He was putting the first of four carefully away in it’s case.

“I should clean that shit up myself,” Rick said.

Daryl looked up and laughed. “I’m a roadie, man. It’s my job to clean this shit up.” He looked Rick up and down. “It’s your job to not look like you got in a bar fight. And you’re failing, man.”

Rick reached up and touched the puffing around his eye. “Aw shit. Tyreese is gonna be pissed.” Rick picked up a red Fender and strummed at it absently as Daryl closed up a case. “How bad is it having to be at the sound board watching the same shit night after night?”

Daryl laughed. “It ain’t all bad. You got a good voice during the parts you're allowed to not scream. Put on a good show, y’know. Not just standing there like some of these guys. You move around. You feel the music and the audience can tell.” 

“I don’t always hate it,” Rick confessed after another strum. “I like the parts where the fans are excited.”

Daryl broke down the guitar stand as the sound of Rick’s growling belly made them both look up. “Didn’t you eat anything?”

Rick shrugged. “Nah. Forgot”

“Go get your M&M’s at least. I can sneak you out to a KFC or something after I finish up.”

“Can’t. I kicked the jar and they're all over the floor.” 

Daryl looked over with a smirk. 

“I like the sound of shattered glass,” Rick laughed. “Just like the lyrics for _Made to Suffer_.”

“So, you know that little backstage throwdown was on the news, right?” Daryl asked as he picked up a few rogue wires and wrapped them around an arm.

Rick dropped his head to his hands. “Surprised Ty isn’t blowing up my phone,” he said as he pulled it out of his pocket to check.

“Mags told him to leave you alone for the night.”

“Well, good. How bad was it?”

“Check it out on your phone all you gotta do is google Midnight Quarry. It’s being blogged about everywhere.”

Rick stared down at Daryl and blinked, his face completely blank as he worked on dissecting the words Google and Blog.

Daryl rolled his eyes, stood up, took Rick’s phone and tapped into it until a video started playing. Rick stood shoulder to shoulder with Daryl and they watched it together. It was raw footage of the fight. The audio picked up Rick’s voice _“You think I wanna be screaming out these shitty lyrics? I’ve given you ten years of my life already! AND MY FUCKING WIFE!”_

“Ohh. Nice one,” Daryl said with a nod.

They both groaned at the fist Shane threw that had ultimately ended in Rick’s black eye. After the clip ended, Daryl turned it off and handed it back to Rick. “I’m serious about KFC if you wanna come. I’m picking up a bucket for the guys. Do you… Do you wanna come hang out? Just me and Axel and Morales and Eugene playing some cards and shooting the shit.”

Rick cocked his head at Daryl. He did want to hang out. “Yeah, man. I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming to an AO3 screen near you on Friday- Rick, Daryl, Axel, Morales and Eugene play some cards and shoot the shit.


	12. Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to stylepoints for the beta!!

Daryl had butterflies. That was the first sign of worry. Butterflies because Rick Grimes said he'd like to hang out with a bunch of roadies and play cards. For fuck’s sake. A grown ass man getting schoolgirl butterflies over a rockstar. Daryl shook his head. First of all, Rick was straight. And second, Daryl’d sworn off men. He didn't need anyone to be happy. He left Georgia and he wasn't going back. He was going to live the carefree, nomadic life of a roadie. He already sweet-talked Maggie into making some connections to get him on another crew in August.

But despite all that, there he was with butterflies because Rick was holding his hand steady to study his tattoo while they waited at a KFC drive-thru. 

“It's really ornate,” Rick said as he traced the snake pattern where it wrapped around to Daryl’s elbow making the roadie involuntarily shiver. “Had to take forever.”

“Four visits,” Daryl replied as the woman at the window opened it and held out a bucket and a giant grease-stained bag. He slipped his hand out from between Rick’s rough fingers and cursed the twitching in his pants for even so much as thinking about it.

He handed the spoils to Rick, hit his blinker and turned out onto the parkway towards the Radisson. “You got any others that aren’t visible?” Rick asked, all innocent and naive like he wasn’t basically asking Daryl to describe what he looked like naked.

“A few,” he answered and looked back over to Rick to judge his level of interest in hearing the details. Rick was grazing his teeth over one of his snake bites in that unintentionally seductive way of his. Daryl had seen pictures of him doing that in magazines and always thought it was a choreographed look because it was fucking hot as hell and downright adorable all at the same time. But apparently, it was just an honest-to-god quirk.

“Of what?” Rick asked, making Daryl wonder how long he’d just been staring. 

“Oh, uhh… Angel and Devil on my back. A crossbow on my right calf. And a G over my heart that will be changed very soon to some-fucking-thing-else.”

“Ah. Yeah. I got Lori on my upper thigh.”

Daryl tried to focus. _Don’t think about his upper thigh. Don’t think about his upper thigh._ “What are you gonna get over it? Had any thoughts?”

Rick shrugged. “Bet someone could work with it and turn it into my first guitar.”

“The Gibson,” Daryl replied, not a question because he knew he remembered right.

“Yeah. Cherry red.” 

Daryl could tell by the soft clink of teeth to medal that Rick was playing with one of his lip rings again. “You think the other roadies are going to be ok with me crashing the party?”

“Why wouldn’t they be? You’re just one of the guys.”

Rick smiled. “Yeah. Like being one of the guys. That's the difference between me and Shane. I want to live a normal life. Be one of the guys. Play cards and eat KFC. He wants to live the way he's living. Bottles of Cristale. Fancy restaurants, doing body shots with girls that just want to fuck him so they can brag about it to their friends. Coke. He wants the entourage and the fanfare. Feeds off it.”

“There's a lot more difference ‘tween you two than that,” Daryl said.

Rick laughed. “He only wants me to stick with the band cause he don't think MQ will last without me. And he HATES that. It kills him. Still. After all this time.”

“Well, he's right. It wouldn't,” Daryl said.

“Yeah, it would.”

“No. And I ain't just saying they cause we’re friends. It's-”

“We’re friends?”

Daryl looked over, surprised. Was the guy that lonely that he didn't even recognize what friendship was? “Course we’re friends. Been fishing together.”

Yeah, they were friends. Just good friends. Daryl never had a problem keeping crushes off straight guys. And if he had some thoughts here and there about Rick Grimes because he was particularly sweet and good looking, so be it. It wouldn’t be a problem. Especially since the thought of dating again made him want to to grab Glenn’s bucket and puke his guts out.

\---------------

Rick followed Daryl into Axel’s room stuffing his hands in his pockets and feeling a little out of place. Daryl was cool, he treated Rick like a normal person, like a friend. But he hadn’t talked much with the other guys. What if they thought Rick was an asshole? Most people did. Every time he’d been interviewed the last comments were something along the lines of “You're a lot more down to earth than I would have thought.” Yet, the articles always come out over-dramatic and embellishing every story he told and making him look like the asshole he never wanted to be. Sometimes he wondered how much Tyreese had to do with that. The media painted a picture of Rick as brooding and angry. They were just _waiting_ for him to bite the head off of something on stage. Rick still didn’t know how things had spiraled in such a way to land him with that reputation. 

When he thought about it, there was only one logical explanation. Fucking Shane. He had always listened to Shane. Always followed him. When he got busted shoplifting at fourteen? Because of Shane. When he crashed his dad’s car at sixteen? Because of Shane. When he tried coke for the first time in the early days of the band? Because of Shane. The tattoos? Because of Shane. The band? Because of Shane. And the past three or four years had been like an undoing of all things Shane. Rick stopped the drugs. Cut way back on drinking. He started writing songs _he_ wanted to sing. And he started talking about changing the band, then finally started talking about leaving it.

Rick knew the crew. He was most familiar with Eugene from riding on the bus in the past years, but Axel and Morales were familiar faces and Rick knew he’d exchanged pleasantries with them on occasion. He’d specifically asked Maggie to get the same crew year after year. He liked the feel of familiar people around him. Almost like a family even if he didn’t get much opportunity to talk to them. The familiarness of it was nice enough.

“Rick Grimes in the tattoo’d flesh,” Eugene announced as he opened the door. “You slumming with the common man tonight?”

Daryl punched Eugene hard in the arm. “Fuck off, Eugene. He’s just a dude that want’s some greasy chicken and to kick your ass in poker.”

“Well, good news, Rick,” Morales said as he sat down at one of the chairs near the coffee table. “Eugene hasn’t won a hand of Poker in four years. So your odds to beat him are fairly strong.”

“I believe that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Eugene said as he opened the bucket of chicken and grabbed a leg off the top. Axel handed out bottles of Bud as Rick sat on the small sofa next to Daryl. 

“Yeah, Don’t be a dick, Morales. Eugene won in Portland. 2014. That was only like two years ago,” Daryl said, pounding his chest with a gesture of solidarity to the bus driver.

Rick picked the crunchy skin off the chicken and ate that first, then picked at the breast with his fingers. “Gotta say I’m surprised. Thought maybe you’d be able to do that card counting thing with the way your so smart about shit like that.”

“That’s illegal, Rick,” Eugene said stone-faced. 

Rick nodded. “Uhhh yeah, right. Doubt anyone would turn you in for it though.”

“I would,” Daryl and Morales said at the same time. 

“I’m considering calling the cops just cause you’re thinking about it right now, Eugene,” Axel said with a smirk.

Morales started dealing the cards. “You’re in, right, Grimes? Blue chips are a buck, red are five. I trust you’re good for the money?”

“Yeah, I’m in. Thanks for letting me… y’know hang out.”

“Course. Anyone who gives Shane Walsh a fat lip is ok in my book,” Axel said as he looked at his cards. 

Rick shook his head. “Well, he got a good lick in, too,” he said motioning to his own eye.

“Eh, make-up can fix that. No one will know. Harder to fix the lip, so you’ll look like the winner,” Daryl said optimistically.

Rick sorted through his cards with a smile on his face. He liked these guys already. “Hey, what kind of music do you guys listen to?” Rick asked. He looked to Axel first. 

“Good old classic rock, man.”

“Yeah, I like that too,” Morales said. “That’s why we can ride across the country in the same vehicle all those hours. Like some Latin on occasion too, though.”

“You already know my tastes, man,” Daryl said as he tossed out a card and picked up a replacement. 

“Oh, yeah. Big WoodBurried fan,” Rick teased. Daryl bumped Rick’s shoulder with a husky chuckle and something about it made Rick feel so comfortable. 

He looked over to Eugene. “Midnight Quarry, dude,” he answered. 

“No way,” Rick said, his jaw hanging open.

“Fuckin’ A right. You think I’m here cause I like all the drama and whining? I’m here cause I like driving across the country and I like getting to listen to MQ live twenty-seven times in one summer.”

“You don’t look like… our typical fan.”

“I’m a surprising guy, Rick.”

“Used to be a rocket scientist,” Daryl mumbled as he laid out his hand. 

“WHAT?” Rick asked, exasperated at this new information on Eugene’s background. “And what… you quit to hear a band?”

“Nah. Band’s a perk. I quit because it was stressful and I wasn’t happy. Life’s too short not to be happy, Rick,” Eugene said with the same dull expression as always.

“This is you happy? I’ve never seen you smile.”

“Things aren’t always what the seem. I’m hella happy. Well, except when Walsh is bleeding all over my bus. You planning to keep punching him every stop? Should I invest in some wet wipes and a bigger first aid kit?

By the end of the night, Rick had a nice old-fashioned budweiser-induced buzz going and he’d lost forty bucks. He’d gotten to know more about the crew. Axel was a writer. Had two books out about vampires. Not making enough money at it yet to quit the manual labor, but he liked traveling the country and getting inspiration for books from the scenery. Morales had a wife and two kids. Lived in Ohio and drove a snow plow in the winter. The roadie gig was for extra cash trying to save up for his kid’s college. Eugene, in addition to apparently being an ex-Rocket Scientist, used to perm his hair before attempting to single-handedly bring back the mullet. And he played guitar. Knew every single one of the Midnight Quarry songs. 

Daryl. Daryl was funny. He made jokes that were so subtle and unexpected that Rick couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. He was soft spoken but passionate when an issue came up he had opinions about. He was loyal. Rick could tell that right away. The way he was so indebted to his older brother. The way he looked out for the crew. Even the way he was with Rick. 

Rick thought back to that first night at McDonalds, how Daryl put himself between Rick and the group of kids who recognized him. How he brushed a hand over Rick’s elbow. It was nice having someone do that because they cared and not just because he was ‘Midnight Quarry property’. 

Rick and Daryl left around midnight and walked to the elevator bank together. “That was fun,” Rick said. 

“Don’t take much to amuse you, does it?’

Rick shrugged, realizing that he was wearing an honest-to-God smile. “Where we going tomorrow?”

“Phoenix. You riding with me?” Daryl asked with a hopeful pitch to his voice.

“If you aren’t sick of me yet.” And Rick hoped he wasn’t. Because he quite liked spending time with this guy, this new friend.

“Course not. 8 am. There's a Dunkin Donuts round the corner for coffee. Hotel coffee’s shit.”

“Oh! I've heard they have good coffee there!”

Daryl looked at Rick like he'd grown a second head. “You've never had coffee from Dunkin Donuts?”

“Don't get out much, Daryl. Been in this bubble since right after high school.” The doors opened and they entered the empty elevator, Daryl poking at his floor and Rick’s then leaning back against the wood-paneled wall.

“You’re checking off bucket list items left and right. Go for a walk in San Francisco. Dunkin Donuts in Reno…”

Rick smiled, his eyes dropping to take in the view of Daryl from his work boots to his tatted arms to his never-brushed hair as he leaned against the wall, biting on a thumbnail. He had strong arms. Broad shoulders. Daryl seemed to enjoy Rick’s company. He seemed to like Rick _despite_ being lead singer of an internationally famous rock band, not because of it. And that was new.

\------------------------------

 

Over the next few weeks, the shows were pretty much same shit, different day. In Phoenix, Shane went overboard on the coke and threw a fit when Tyreese told him the local radio station only wanted to interview Rick. 

In Albuquerque, Shane _was_ interviewed and he told KZRR that people shouldn’t look at him like he was the bad guy because Lori and Rick were falling apart regardless. And then he proceeded to explain that she was a lousy lay anyway. At that night’s concert it was icy between the lead singer and the drummer. Not a word was exchanged between them. 

It was on the way to Austin where Tyreese seemed to lose control of the Midnight Quarry story with rumors giving reality a run for its money.

It started with a simple Tumblr post from some random blogger named Ringleader-of-the-Tormentors. 

_Saw Rick Grimes at a Dunkin Donuts drive thru! Guy seems depressed. I feel bad for him._

That may have been legit. They were out of blueberry glaze donuts that morning and that had Rick a little bummed. Maybe he looked sad for a moment. Perhaps there was a brief pout. Maybe. The blogger probably didn't watch long enough to see Rick smiling and fighting off Daryl as he tried to stuff a piece of Apple Fritter down the lead singer’s throat as he shouted “fuck blueberries, man. Eat this!” 

But alas, the blueberry donut frown spiraled into rumor and gossip and bullshit. The Dunkin Donuts blog was picked up by TMZ and embellished.

_Interviewer: So you are a professional psychologist. What do YOU see going on here?”_

_Dr. Ceaser Martinez: Well, look at the facts. Rick Grimes’ wife cheated on him. That's enough to make your common man crumble, but with a rockstar’s ego? Definitely a recipe for a full-blown mental breakdown. Donuts be damned. Rick Grimes is a classic case of a breakdown about to happen.”_

That was picked up and twisted even more by the evening news.

_Channel Six Anchorman:  
Midnight Quarry Frontman, Rick Grimes, is reported to be hospitalized earlier this week for depression. He’s recently been through a very public breakup with his wife. I have to tell you Patty,” the anchorman said to his co-anchor, “this is kind of surprising. From what I know of the guy, anger is more his speed than depression. Everyone is waiting for him to bite a head off a bat Ozzy-style or something.”_

_“I think more like expecting him to bite the head off a human! You've heard the lyrics, right?” the co-anchor stage-laughed._

_After polite shared chuckle, the anchorman continued, “It makes concert goers wonder if the show will be worth it? According to our sources he is out of the hospital and headed to Austin for the next show, but you have to wonder how it will be? I mean you can't sing Go for the Jugular depressed!”_

Rick was not in the hospital. Nor was he having a nervous breakdown. Hell, he wasn't even that pissed since he'd been spending most of his time with Daryl. 

But Tyreese? Tyreese did not like rumors that he didn't start himself. The Midnight Quarry story belonged to him. And he would goddamn get control of it again before Austin. They want something to talk about? Tyreese would spoon feed them something to talk about. That was his job. And as the bus moved through Texas, he was already hard at work planting the seeds that would make Austin legendary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming on Monday- 
> 
> Austin, Texas.


	13. 30 Days Without An Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by stylepoints

Austin, Texas. 

Daryl was at the sound board early. There was still another ninety minutes before showtime but the dull roar from the crowd was already at levels higher than Daryl had ever heard. In fact, the seats were filling up quicker than usual. The gates of the amphitheater shouldn’t have even been opened yet. He turned back and watched over his shoulder as the crowds came flooding down the aisles. He reached for his phone and before he could text Maggie asking if he had the start time wrong, he felt a hand grab onto his arm. He turned around to find Morales. “Need you backstage, man,” he said. Daryl gave the roadie a confused look and Morales shrugged in response. They headed through the quickly filling seats towards the stage.

When the two got up front, Daryl turned around to take another look at the stadium. It was good-sized but no different from Phoenix or Reno or any of the other locations they’ve been through. But the sound, the noise of just … people. it was like a tsunami. The walls seemed to rattle with it. Once backstage, the entire team stood in a tight circle so everyone could hear. Glenn and Maggie were carefully positioned between Shane and Rick to stave off any more conflict. 

“What the fuck’s going on?” Daryl asked, realizing after the words were out that he should have yelled louder if he wanted to be heard. 

“Alright! Listen up!” Tyreese shouted, his deep, booming voice carrying better than anyone else’s probably could have, even Rick’s. 

“We got a show tonight. A big one. It’s gonna be hella crowded. I need you guys up there playing. You play and you don’t stop. No matter what happens- You. Don’t. Stop.”

Eugene shouted from his spot next to Daryl, “Nice to see some love here in Austin, but are we violating any fire code regulations here?”

“Not our problem,” Tyreese shouted, “We are here to play music and that’s what we’re gonna do. Do not stop!” The roar of a rising Quarry chant was overwhelming. “Opening act isn’t coming on tonight. We’ll get shut down too soon and I want you guys on for as long as possible.” Tyreese looked each of the band members in the eye before he continued. “Just do your thing, like it’s any other show.” 

“Why isn't it just any other show?” Rick asked.

“No one calls my people depressed unless I say they're depressed. I run this PR machine, Rick. Go out and play angry.”

“I can do angry,” Rick said with a nod.

“We all can,” Shane and Andrea said as Glenn had stepped back from the circle to puke.”

Tyreese backed out of the tight circle and waved Daryl over. He put an arm on the sound man’s shoulder and leaned in. “The microphones by the drum set… Are they hooked up?”

“Of course, man. Do all that first thing,” Daryl shouted as he followed Ty out on the dark stage. The drums were set up but out of view from the pavilion they were playing in. “Make sure the mic is switched on,” Tyreese hollered when they reached the drums. Daryl flipped the switch then stood back and watched Tyreese take one of the extra back-up guitars, raise it over his head and smash it against the side of the drum set. The stadium fizzled with the hot electric sound of reverb in the mic, falling cymbals and crashing drums. 

Voices out in the arena got even louder if that was possible as Daryl turned the mic back off. He could barely hear himself shouting “What the fuck did you do that for!?”

“Selling it, Daryl! Gotta fight that bullshit rumor about depression. I leaked a story this morning that Rick Grimes isn't depressed, he's pissed. That the band is falling apart at the seams - never gonna get through the halfway point of the tour. Talked about all the fighting behind the scenes and that they are probably gonna attack each other on stage at some point. We are getting ourselves a story tonight! A story that Midnight Quarry is just as aggressive as ever. And Austin is something not to miss. If MQ goes out… they’re going with a bang not a whimper. Everyone watches the Indy 500 for the crashes, Daryl. Get the drums set back up. We need to get started before the crowd storms the stage. I’m going out to try to convince the media that this racket with the drums wasn’t from a fight.” Ty winked at Daryl, clearly in his element as publicist. “Not gonna be trying too hard to be convincing, y’know!? Paparazzi wants drama? They’ll get _my_ Goddamn drama. Not their own made up bullshit.”

Ty disappeared into the darkness as Axel and Morales came running out to the stage. “Long story!” Daryl hollered and the three started putting the drum set back together without words.

It was set back up in five and Daryl was racing off stage past Glenn as he still hovered over his puke bucket. Rick caught Daryl’s eye. “Try and have fun, man!” Daryl shouted. “This might be a memorable show!”

“Careful in the crowd,” Rick said with a nod. 

It took a good twenty minutes to wiggle through to the sound board and Daryl checked his phone as he reached his station. Maggie had texted. 

_No opening act. Start the lights for MQ. We are waiting on your go._

Daryl used his broad shoulders to nudge some of the concert goers out of his way. He shoved up the stage lights and started nudging up every single one of the mics. Shane was pounding on the drums, and for the first time ever, Daryl nudged the volume up on them too. He was crammed against the soundboard and he looked around to find that no one was sitting. The pavilion was definitely overflowing and there was no way the show would get very far without being shut down by the fire department. He tried to squint out at the lawn seating and all he saw was an endless sea of people. The sound of synchronized stomps that followed the beat of the drum started to rattle the stage as well as his sound equipment. 

When Rick stepped out on stage with his guitar screeching, the crowd went nuts. A wave of people moved forward and pinned Daryl against the sound board. Daryl couldn’t even hear Rick’s voice as the crowd around him screamed the opening lyrics to _Made to Suffer_. He nudged up the mic volume and made some adjustments to the lighting, Flashing some of the spotlights throughout the crowd. The band played like Tyreese had instructed. Hard. Angry. One song after another after another. No stops despite all the women that were climbing up on stage. T-dog and several cops were walking a path up and down the front of the stage pulling them off. Rick, however, tried to make eye contact with every single one of the over-enthused groupies as he sang and that seemed to wind up the crowd even more. He would take their hands as cops were pulling them away. He would bend down to growl out his lyrics closer to them. 

He growled and screamed and writhed and if Daryl didn’t know any better, it might have seemed like Rick was almost enjoying the energy. This was like nothing Daryl had ever seen. By the time Shane belted out the drum beat to _No Sanctuary_ , Daryl heard a loud noise, even louder than the wild crowd or the high volume of the band. He turned around and saw the oversized neon sign that blinked “Austin360 Amphitheatre” starting to teeter right before his eyes. He could see the glow of blinking red and blue lights surrounding the entire theatre. The sign crashed against the roof of the pavilion just as a cop wiggled through the crowd towards Daryl. “You need to shut this shit down!” she yelled, “too many people, over fire code and now we have an unsafe dwelling,” she said, pointing out to the sign, that thankfully, hadn’t fallen all the way to the ground. 

Not wanting to let the band or the crew down, Daryl shrugged. “It’s all on auto, man.” 

The officer rolled her eyes and started pulling plugs out of the soundboard. The fans crowded in more as Rick changed some of the lyrics to _No Sanctuary_ from _“You can’t keep us here”_ to _“You can’t make us leave”_. Finally lights flickered out onstage and then one mic after another went quiet. The crowd roared and an instant chant of “We won’t leave! We won’t leave!” filled the air. 

A light came on over the stage and a row of cops walked across the front of it. Rick and the others were nowhere to be seen. “Look, buddy. I know you’re just doing your job here, but it’s gonna get ugly. You need to get out of here,” the officer at the sound board said.

Daryl gave her a sharp nod and headed towards the stage, pushing and shoving determinedly as he went. Normally he wouldn’t give in to a cop so easily, but even Daryl could see this was an unstable situation. And frankly, he wanted to make sure everything was ok with Rick. And the rest of them. By the time he got to the stage and convinced the cops that were lined up that his backstage credentials were legit, the night air was filled with bullhorns and sirens and more voices than he’d ever heard in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone!!!  
> The time has come!!! Next up: Stuff and thangs!!


	14. Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta’d by StylePoints! 
> 
> Surprise!! I have a busy day tomorrow so it's posting early! Today I give you.... stuff and thangs!

Rick was drenched in sweat. His throat was raw from screaming even more than normal and he paced the room literally vibrating with energy. He hadn’t felt that excited on stage in years. He walked back to his balcony and looked down at the streets that were teeming with people, with cop cars, with sirens. And Rick could hear pockets of people shouting Midnight Quarry lyrics in the streets from all the way up on the 35th floor.

He turned back around, forgetting for a moment that he was alone, that Lori wasn’t here to enjoy the excitement with him. He grabbed his cell off the dresser and pulled up Lori’s text messages. He hovered his fingers over the buttons, then clicked away and dialed Daryl’s number.

“You okay, man?” Daryl asked, picking it up on the first ring.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Christ are you? You didn’t get trampled?”

“Got a little banged up, I think, but GOD DAMN! What a show, right?!”

Rick could hear the same buzzing energy in Daryl’s voice that he felt pumping through his own veins. He laughed, nervous. “They knocked over a giant sign! What floor are you on, man?”

“Fouth. You?”

“Fucking Penthouse. Get up here! You gotta see the crowd out this balcony. I’ll tell T to let you in.”

“Be right up!” Daryl responded and Rick clicked end on his phone, put it down and glanced up at the mirror. He barely recognized himself. He hadn’t seen himself smiling like this maybe ever. He ran fingers through his thick curls and cursed himself for not showering before he called Daryl. Then briefly wondered why he cared.

He walked over to the door and opened it to see T-dog standing by the elevator and looking damn tired. “Daryl’s coming up. Let him in, okay? And Jesus, T-dog, you had a long damn day, go to bed. No one’s sneaking into the hotel. There’s a hundred cops down there.”

T-dog nodded. “I’ll take that under advisement, Grimes. Thanks.” 

Rick started pulling the door shut and paused when T called “Hey, Rick?” He opened the door back up and looked out. 

“Damn good show tonight, huh?” he smirked. 

Rick nodded. “One for the books.”

About twenty minutes after Rick called Daryl, there was a knock at the door. Rick opened it wide enough to let Daryl stroll in swinging an unopened bottle of champaign. Rick leaned back into the hall. “T! Get some rest, dude!”

Daryl grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “You watch any of it?”

“Shit,” Rick laughed. “Didn’t even think to check the news!” 

They both sat on the coffee table, eyes glued to the television. 

A man with perfectly coiffed hair and a blonde woman with bright red lipstick were at the newsdesk.

_“... it all started earlier today when local affiliates received an email from an unnamed source that stated… and I’m going to quote it here… ‘Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh will never be able to keep their … and there's an expletive here… together to finish the entire 27-city tour. If they make it past Austin, it will be a miracle. This could be the end for Midnight Quarry. Not because Rick Grimes is depressed, but because he’s pissed. Concert goers should save their tickets for posterity. Cause this could be their last live performance ever and tensions are up. I wouldn’t doubt it if a fight broke out right on stage in the middle of the show.’” The man stopped and looked at his co-anchor._

_“And that was all it took,” the blonde said. “After that story leaked it seems that fans from all over were lining up to try and hear the show from the parking lot and then the sheer force of the bodies got them through fences and past guards. We have our own Jacqui Prescott on the scene.”_

_The camera’s turned to the outside of the stadium with a view of the fallen concert sign and a row of downed fences. “I’m here with concern-goer Randall Culver from Mississippi. Randall- Did you have tickets for the show?”_

_“I had tickets for A show,” the kid answered._

_“But not for the Austin show?”_

_“No. We came from Biloxi. We were worried they wouldn’t make it to our stop. Didn’t want to miss a living legend this damn close, y’know?”_

_“Was there any violence tonight?”_

_“You know what was funny, ma’am? This band… they have a rep, y’know? But nobody was hurt other than a few bumps and bruises. We were all just here to listen to the same music, man.”_

Rick clicked it off, quietly relieved that no one was seriously injured. “Come look out the balcony, man! There’s more people out there than I’ve ever seen!”

Daryl walked out to the balcony, tugging open the bottle of champagne as he went. Rick followed him out and they looked down at the scene below them and watched in silence, passing the bottle back and forth as they drank straight from it.

“What was it like on stage?” Daryl asked after a while.

Rick shook his head still in disbelief. “Not gonna lie, man. It was like the old days, back when it was still exciting. So much energy, man. Just… Just fun.” Rick guzzled at the bottle and passed it back to Daryl. 

“Christ, Shane and I even smiled at each other,” Rick laughed. “What was it like at ground zero?”

Daryl guzzled more of the champaign, pulled up his shirt and tugged down his jeans to show off a giant bruise along his hip bone. “A little wild.”

Rick looked at the bruise longer than probably necessary, following the sharp line of Daryl's hip as it dipped below the line of his jeans. 

“You did great up there,” Daryl said as he let his shirt drop back into place. “I mean, you always do.”

Rick’s heart was pounding. He thought about Daryl's arms around him in San Francisco, holding him back from punching Shane. Thought about tracing the pattern of the roadie’s snake tattoo in the truck at the KFC drive thru, enjoying the feel of the man’s soft skin under his fingers. He remembered the comfort of sitting thigh to thigh with him in Axel’s room, laughing together. He felt himself grow warm at the thought of Daryl's body against his own when they were fishing and reeling in Rick’s catch. He thought of Daryl's smile. All of his smiles. The one he used when he was trying not to laugh. The one he used when Rick would compliment him. The one he used when he talked about hunting or fishing. The one he used when he had a devious idea, like stealing all of Eugene's socks from his suitcase just to fuck with him. The one he used when he'd gotten as good as he gave- like when Eugene put the entire crew’s dirty laundry in Daryl's bag.

He thought about the sound of Daryl’s voice and how calming it was. His eyes, the way they looked at Rick. Studied him. Saw him as his own person and not a mythic rockstar. 

Rick's heart kept thudding harder, the champaign buzz and the adrenaline taking away his fears. He heard the crowd below singing _“Ain’t dead yet, but that's what we're here for…”_

Daryl had been holding his gaze for minutes, wordless. Pupils widening. Rick bit nervously against one of the loops in his lower lip, then stalked towards Daryl, pressing him into the stone wall of the balcony, his body tight to Daryl's body, and he kissed him. 

Daryl's mouth opened, possibly to protest, but Rick took it as invitation and kissed deeper, a cross between a gasp and a groan vibrating in his throat.

The champaign bottle slipped from Daryl's fingers at the unexpected kiss and shattered across the balcony floor, a thousand shards of glass tinkling against the backdrop of the noise in the streets below.

Daryl felt Rick's soft, full lips on his own, the slivers of cold metal from his snake bites. He opened his mouth, not even sure of what he wanted to say, but his parted lips were met with more from Rick. More passion, more pressure. He felt Rick's hands grasp onto his hips, Rick’s body crushing into his own.

“Rick,” he mumbled into the kiss. He put his hands up against Rick's chest with the intention of pushing him back for a minute but the feel of the lead singer's hard pecks against the palms of Daryl's hands made him moan. He slid his hands up to Rick's tatted neck, thumbs grazing his chin. 

They broke apart for breath. “Rick,” Daryl said again, heart pounding, breath gasping. Rick’s eyes had gone black with lust, the blue of his irises relegated to the thinnest outline around his blown pupils. He bit against one of his lip rings nervously. 

“Rick, I don't think this is-”

“I'm sorry. I thought you… I thought you liked me.”

“I do. I like you. But you… You're amped up from the show and ...and Lori ain't here and you… You'll have regrets being with a guy just cause there ain’t no one else around.”

Rick backed up to the railing and held up his pointer finger in the “come here” motion. Daryl walked over and looked down to the street below as Rick motioned to it.

“There's plenty of people around, Daryl. I told you. I don't do groupies.”

“But if you are going to try out a guy, I don't-”

“You aren't my first guy, man.”

“What!?”

“Not everything about my life was in that shitty biography you read.”

Daryl opened and shut his mouth several times trying to find words.

“I don't kiss anyone I don't want to kiss,” Rick said forcefully. Then his voice grew softer. “Don't fuck anyone I don't want to fuck.”

“Well...I ain't looking for a one-night stand,” Daryl said in his gruff but gentle rumble.

“Perfect, neither am I,” Rick said and he fisted his hands into Daryl's shirt and took his lips again. Daryl responded with a similar passion, sliding his tongue along Rick's pierced lip and then slipping it into Rick’s mouth, tasting him, swallowing his soft whimpers. He let his hands trace up along Rick's body from his hips, up his lean torso and into his wild curls. He gripped tight into Rick's hair and backed him up to the opposite wall, stumbling over a balcony chair as they went.

The familiar bass of _Welcome to the Tombs_ pounded up from a few floors below and Daryl felt it in his bloodstream.

Rick peeled Daryl's shirt up and over his head and the roadie broke the kiss just long enough to pull it off.

“Inside,” Rick whispered at the break.

Daryl backed into the room kicking off his shoes and pulling Rick back into the penthouse with him. The lead singer fumbled with his belt and zipper and fell onto the bed with his pants shoved halfway down to his knees. Daryl knelt and untied Rick's boots keeping his eyes on Rick’s eyes the whole time then yanked off the man’s boots and pants.

“Tyreese is gonna have a heart attack if he finds out about this man,” Daryl said as he stood above Rick, now barefoot himself and just wearing his ripped jeans.

“Fuck him.” Rick pulled his shirt off so he was completely naked on the bed. And he scooted back onto it as Daryl climbed after him like a tiger stalking it's prey. 

“One last chance to say no,” Daryl offered.

“Why are your pants still on?” Rick responded.

Daryl pulled Rick's mouth to his with a strong hand gentle against the back of the lead singer’s neck. He kissed him briefly then leaned down and licked a trail up Rick's neck following the lines of his tattoo. “Been wanting to get my fucking tongue on you since you was tracing your fingers on my tatt at that drive thru in Reno.

“Why didn't you?”

“Thought you was straight,” Daryl murmured as he nibbled at Rick's bottom lip, licking at the snake bites after each bite and tug. 

“Thought about it then, too,” Rick said. “At that KFC. Thought you'd turn me down.”

“Why would you think that. You knew I was gay. And you… Well, you're fucking gorgeous.” He kissed Rick's bare shoulder. “So fucking sweet. Excited over such simple things in life. It's sexy, you know? Being hot as fuck, this badass up on stage and by reputation, but really so innocent.”

Rick wrapped a leg around Daryl's and flipped them so the lead singer was on top. “I'm not that innocent.”

He kissed Daryl again hard and firm, chest against Daryl’s chest, his hands searching for Daryl’s hands and holding them up over the roadie’s head. Rick sat up, straddling Daryl.

“I’m not an easy lay,” Daryl said from below him. “Ain’t doing this cause you’re Midnight Quarry.”

“I know,” Rick answered. “And I’m not doing it just cause I’m amped up from the show.”

“Only been with two guys,” Daryl said softly. “One I was with for five years. The other for three. And they both fucking hurt me.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Rick said as he kept one hand tight in Daryl’s against the bed and used the other to brush the roadie’s too-long hair from his eyes. “You need to know my number?” Rick asked.

“No.”

“Four,” Rick answered anyway. “One girl that lasted most of freshmen year in high school. Two guys then before Lori. One I was with for a few months, subtle though. Shane didn’t even know. Didn’t suspect. One was a one night stand. Not because that’s what I wanted. It’s just how it worked out.”

“Were you keeping it secret? With the guys?”

“Yes.” Rick started rocking back and forth, rutting his hard cock against the bulge in Daryl’s jeans.

“Why?”

“Wanted to be famous. Didn’t want it to interfere.”

“I won't tell no one,” Daryl said.

“I don't care. I don't want to be famous anymore,” Rick said, his voice honest and sincere. He leaned back in and ran kisses along Daryl's collar bone. “I just wanna be happy.”

Daryl’s eyes rolled back in his head at the feel of Rick’s mouth on him, the feel of his hard cock against Daryl’s own, nothing but a layer of thin, worn jeans between them. Daryl pulled his hands away and fought to unbutton and remove them. Rick giggled at his struggle. When Daryl was finally as bare as Rick they sat naked on the bed together, eyes roaming, fingers softly tracing one another’s bodies.

Rick ran his hands down Daryl’s thigh to his calf and traced the crossbow tattoo. “Will you take me hunting after the tour is over?”

“Sure. Will you finish writing that song you were working on in San Francisco so I can hear it?”

Rick blushed and smiled. “Yeah, man. Sure.”

Rick continued running hands slowly up and down Daryl’s thigh. “Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t fight off those button-fly’s just for you to rub my thigh,” Daryl said with that quirky lopsided smile.

“Shit. Wait. Hang on… lube.” Rick backed off the bed and walked over to the bathroom.

“You got some?” Daryl asked optimistically. 

Rick emerged with the tiny bottle of hotel lotion. “No. But this will work, right? Might be hard to make a run to the corner store with the mob down there.”

“Yeah,” Daryl grunted with a bashful smile.

Rick was hard and excited. The chants and the roar from outside disappeared as he left the world around him and crawled back over Daryl on the bed, tumbling into his mesmerizing eyes. The room was dark, just street lights from the window lighting it. The music thudded from below. Rick put some lotion on his fingers and circled Daryl’s entrance while kissing and licking at the roadie’s lips.

“I’m not pushing you into this, am I?” Rick asked, worry starting to sprout in his belly like a quick-growing weed. “I mean, I’m your boss. Don’t want you to think you’ll get fired if you turn me away.”

“Maggie’s my boss,” Daryl corrected as he started rocking himself against Rick’s tentative fingers. “You're just a member of some shitty death metal band that I hate.”

Rick smiled. “Hate? Damn that’s harsh.”

“Well, you’re sexy as fuck writhing around up on stage, but I prefer the cute Rick that don’t know how to use a fishing pole.”

Rick slid a finger into Daryl’s eager ass. “There are some poles I DO know how to use, I’ll have you know.”

Daryl snorted out a laugh. “Is there anybody else on this planet that knows what a dork you are?”

“Nobody else knows me at all,” Rick answered softly. He leaned in and kissed Daryl again, plucking at his lips like he plucks at the strings of his guitar. He slipped another finger in and scissored Daryl open. The roadie’s breaths came faster and he groaned, arching his back off the bed desperate to feel Rick’s chest against him again. 

“Please,” Daryl whispered, so desperate and needy and thick with want.

Rick pulled his fingers out, lubed up his hard cock and lined himself up, pressing in slowly as Daryl moaned long and low.

“Fuuuuck,” he whispered as Rick bottomed out. 

Daryl was delirious with feelings, the fill and drag of Rick’s cock as it slid in and out of him, his own cock as it strained against Rick’s stomach, the feel of damp skin against damp skin. The sound of Rick’s breaths and the smell of him, a mixture of champagne, fading cologne and sweat. 

Rick found Daryl’s hands again with his own and held them tight as he pumped in and out. Daryl tingled with energy from the show, from the shouts and music below, from the excitement of first times and from the impending orgasm. He felt it coming, felt Rick hammering into the right spot over and over and the singer suddenly let go of a hand and slipped his fist over Daryl’s throbbing cock. “I’m gonna come,” Rick said as wrapped his fingers around Daryl and pumped to match his thrusts. 

Daryl bucked up into it, feeling the tingles from his prostate and his cock combining into an explosive orgasm. “Ahhh fuuuuuck,” Daryl whimpered and everything in him was exploding, he felt the warmth of his cum as it shot up onto his chest. Rick cried out with a gasp that morphed into a slow growl and Daryl could feel Rick inside him pulsing out his orgasm. Rick put his forehead to Daryl’s as they breathed heavy together for a few moments, the beat from _Welcome to the Tombs_ ending and _Not Too Far Gone_ beginning. 

Rick pulled out and rolled over to lay beside Daryl, a hand lazily caressing over the roadie’s belly. “I think I could probably get off just watching you load up the truck tomorrow morning. You know that?” 

Daryl laughed. “Well, try to be me in Little Rock tomorrow night watching that strut of yours up on stage. You don’t HAVE to watch me load up the truck. I HAVE to watch you on stage. It’s like my job.”

Rick grinned. “Sounds like a great perk to me.”

Daryl reached for a pillow, hit Rick with it, then stripped the case from it and wiped the come off his chest. He curled into his new lover, his head on Rick’s chest. “I better get back to my room. Long day and long drive tomorrow”

“Yeah,” Rick whispered. And he stroked a thumb up and down Daryl’s back until they were both fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up Next- the morning after. Will it be all sweet and mushy and private?   
> Or …. not?


	15. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Stylepoints!
> 
> Thanks to everyone for all the comments last chapter! It's always a relief to hear that the "stuff and thangs" was enjoyable to read after you made everyone wait 14 chapters for it!

Rick woke suddenly to a room lit up by bright sun and a banging on the door. Daryl was just stirring, still naked and curled up by Rick’s side.

“Shit, what time is it?” Daryl whispered as he bolted upright and started scanning the room for his pants.

“Rick!” T-Dog yelled from behind the hotel door, still knocking. “You up? We should be rolling out to Little Rock now. Tight schedule today.”

Rick jumped out of the bed and spotted his own pants, still balled up from the frantic urgency to get them off the night before.

“Yours are over there,” Rick murmured, his morning voice deep and rumbly.

Daryl grabbed them off the floor as Rick was zipping up and walking to the door. He looked back to Daryl who already had his forefinger to his lips in the universal sign for “shhh” as he backed out of view behind the door.

Rick cracked the door open as Daryl quietly pulled his pants right-side-in and tried to get a foot through the leg hole without falling.

“What?” Rick asked T.

“You're late getting up and-”

Maggie walked up behind him, tapping into her phone then putting it to her ear. “I can't find Daryl this mor-”

The three just stood and looked at each other as Daryl's cell rang out from the pocket of his almost-on jeans as he stood behind the door. Maggie's eyes went from her ringing cell to T-dog to Rick then she put a hand on the door and shoved it open so quick that Rick didn't have time to reinforce his hold on it.

Daryl buttoned the last button of his jeans as the door flew open, all eyes on him.

No one said a thing but it was clear four minds were frantically looking for words. Maggie hung up, still gaping at Daryl, pressed a button on her phone and put it up to her dropped jaw. “Siri, call Tyreese.”

“No!” Rick and Daryl said at the same time.

T-dog was already in mid-sentence as well. “...don't have to be no story, Mags. Ain't no one here but us,” he was saying.

Daryl searched around the bed for his shirt as he babbled. “No one has to know… This...this.. We can keep this quiet. It ain't no one’s-” 

“Tyreese, penthouse. Now,” Maggie said. Then, “No he's not dead! Jesus. Just get up here.”

“I'm sorry, Daryl. Fell asleep. I'm sorry,” Rick said softly, trying to have a moment without the extra company. 

Daryl smiled. “S’ok, man.”

Maggie was leaning against the wall with her arms folded, her eyes darting back and forth between the men.

“Guess we should have seen this coming,” she said. The tone in her voice wasn't manager Maggie. It was Maggie Greene from Senioa High that Daryl had known most of his life.

“Surrounded by groupies and never once slipped up on Lori. Been on tour weeks now single and nothing. All you been doing is hanging with Daryl and well… y’know,” she motioned to the roadie in a ‘we all know he’s gay’ sorta way. “Should have seen this coming.”

“This won't make trouble, Mags. It's not… It's…” Rick looked at everyone in the room. “Look. We just woke up and haven't been able to have a word yet. Can you just like… Wait in the hall for a fucking second. Just, give us a minute.”

T-dog nodded. “Ah, yeah. They need the ‘I really like you. Do you really like me.’ talk. Come on, Maggie. Let's give them five.” T walked to the door and opened it, herding Maggie out. 

“Oh for Fuck’s sake we all know what this is. Daryl’s not the one night stand type and Rick’s in love with the idea of marriage. I guess I need to go dress shop-” her voice cut off when T pulled the door shut behind them.

Rick kept his eyes on the closed door and Daryl came up behind him. Slid his hands around Rick's waist. Kissed the back of his neck. “I really like you,” he whispered.

Rick blushed. “I really like you, too. Not exactly the ideal morning after. I'm sorry. I might be kinda complicated to date,” he said as he turned around and put his hands on Daryl’s hips.

“You askin’ me to go steady, Grimes?” Daryl grinned.

Rick snorted out a laugh and kissed his new lover, just a brush of their lips together. But before he could answer, the door burst back open, Tyreese leading the way as the two men jumped apart.

“You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“Ty, this is-” Daryl stopped in mid-sentence, cut off just from the sharp expression from the publicist.

“Here's what's gonna happen. Can't take a risk of a story like this getting out mid-tour. Rick, you're back on the bus-”

“No. No way. I'm riding with Daryl.”

“No. You aren't. You're riding with the band. I don't give a shit if you and Walsh scream or bleed the whole way to Little Rock, but you're not traveling with the new boyfriend. Too much risk of-”

Daryl interrupted. “We're just driving. We-”

“You stop at a rest stop and make eyes at each other over the souvenir magnet rack and then it's out there. I need Rick Grimes to be amped up. Not depressed. Not puppy dog in love.-”

“He was plenty amped up last night,” Daryl said, innuendo lacing his snarky rumble.

T-dog squeaked out a laugh and slammed a hand over his mouth to hide his grin.

“Look, hundreds of thousands of girls across the country have plans to come see Rick Grimes, hoping to get close enough to toss their panties on stage, praying to God they get to be the one to get you laid after the messy divorce. They don't wanna find out you're gay-”

“Bi,” T-dog said under his breath.

“What?” Tyreese asked whipping around to the bodyguard.

“Just saying. He's probably Bi. Was with Lori, right? Things aren't so black and white, Tyreese. They ain't had no trouble driving together so f-”

“Enough,” Maggie interrupted. “Enough. I don't care who's what. All I care about is Rick getting on the bus, Daryl getting in the truck and everyone getting to Little Rock. Get dressed. Get your bags. I want everyone down in the parking lot in twenty minutes. Not twenty-one. Twenty.”

No one moved.

“Go!” she shouted. Tyreese and T left the room. Then Maggie with Daryl right behind her. As Rick followed to shut the door, Daryl turned around, slid fingers into his hair and gave him a last kiss, soft and slow. 

“See you when we get there,” he whispered.

Rick wasted two of his twenty minutes grinning like a moron at the back of the closed door.

By the time he grabbed a seven minute shower, packed, and called the front desk to warn them about the glass on the patio and apologize for it, Daryl and the rest of the roadies had already pulled out. 

Rick was bummed that he wouldn't have another chance to try to ride with Daryl, but he was in a pretty damn good mood regardless, so he climbed on board without a fight.

“Mornin’ Eugene,” he said with a bright smile. “You enjoy the show last night?”

“I did, Rick. Welcome back to the bus.” He lowered his voice. “Not gonna encourage anything, but just so you know, I did stock up on band-aids and wet naps.”

Rick patted his shoulder. “Good to know. Thanks.” He nodded at Shane and Glenn as he walked down the aisle.

Andrea eyed Rick as he walked back and dropped into a seat behind and across from her.

“Good show, right?” she asked, a new line of hickies spread along her collarbone. Rick nodded, the smile still on him. The same one that had been on him since Daryl fisted a strong hand into Rick’s curls and kissed him. Rick could read so much in that simple kiss, and he liked everything the moment implied. It implied more. It implied everything. He couldn’t wait to get to Little Rock.

Seemed like some things had changed since he was last on the bus. Glenn was sitting up front right next to Maggie. Shane wasn’t aggressively drumming anything, and after last night’s show, that was even more of a shock. T-dog was doing the crossword puzzle up in the front seat near Eugene. And the bus was fairly quiet, the only sound the occasional question from T, “Hey Eugene. What’s a six letter word for shelter that starts with a G?”

But the most surprising thing was Shane coming back to slide in next to Rick, a friendly hand on Rick’s shoulder and no air of aggression or anger whatsoever. And even more surprising, was Rick allowing it.

“How ‘bout that show, Rick. Something else last night, huh?”

At the words “last night”, Rick’s first thought was Daryl’s hands in his own, lips grazing one another’s, Daryl’s bright blue eyes gone nearly black. But then he remembered the crowds and the chaos. The fun they had on stage and he nodded. “Yeah. Was almost as exciting as that time in Jacksonville.”

Shane laughed and nodded. “First time we filled a pavilion.”

“First time we noticed the crowd singing all the lyrics,” Rick added.

“I know it ain’t you’re kind of thing, Rick. But we got something here. Be a shame...”

“I know. I know.”

After a quiet ten minutes Rick turned to Shane. “You're right that I've never been happy. You know it's because I've been living _your_ life with _you_. Not living _my_ life.”

Shane kept his eyes out the window at a Maroon Camaro passing the bus, ducking his head to try to get a better look at the brunette driving it. He nodded. “Yeah. You been a good friend. I been a shitty one.”

“I wasn’t happy. But I never would have left Lori,” Rick said. 

“I know.”

They were quiet again. Andrea kept looking over to check on them.

“I'll find a way for the band to go on without me after the tour. Not gonna bail til there’s something lined up. But Shane? I gotta go, man.”

Shane nodded, understanding. Accepting. A few more minutes passed with nothing but the steady rolling of tires.

“I know why,” Shane said quietly.

“Know why what?” Rick thought about Daryl. Was this about him? Had they been unconsciously showing signs of their mutual affection? 

“Why you lived my life for me all this time.”

Rick stayed quiet. He ran a hand through his thick curls, still damp from his rushed shower. Of course Shane knew. Of course. “How long you known?” 

Shane shrugged. “Had my suspicions for a while. But Seattle. That tour a few years back before Lori when we went out drinking with those guys from Tool?“

Rick nodded. That whole night had been a blur. He remembered it only enough to know that he was in a bad mood for some reason and they ran into some of Tool’s band members at an after hours bar. 

“I brought you back to your room that night,” Shane continued. “You had that Men’s Fitness spread laying out, the one I center-folded. Lotion by it. Trashcan full of wadded up tissues. I made a crack ‘bout you jackin’ it to me, before it dawned on me that that is exactly what you’d been doing. And you were fucked, man, holy hell. Laying face-down on your bed, still fully dressed. Could barely form a sentence. Didn’t even know who was in the room with you.” Shane pulled out the drumsticks from the side pocket of his cargo pants and started tapping them nervously.

“What did I say?” Rick asked squeezing his eyes shut.

“You said ‘Don’t tell Shane, man. He don’t need to know’.” 

Rick let out a soft laugh and shook his head, eyes on the seat in front of him. “Not in love with you anymore. For the record. Haven't been for a while.”

“I know.” Shane said. “You know, truth be told I probably knew how you felt even earlier than that. Been twistin’ your arm since high school to always do what I wanted and you always would. Took advantage of that. And it was shitty of me Rick. Lori was shitty of me. Everything. I may have been a shitty one, but I’ll always be your friend. And I _want_ to see you happy. Want to see you smiling like you did on stage last night. Been so long since I seen that, man.”

Rick nodded, a smile on his lips and Daryl on his mind. “I have plans. I’m gonna be happy,” he said. 

By the time they were closing in on Little Rock, the energy in the bus was getting rejuvenated.

Shane was back up next to Andrea making her laugh. Maggie and Glenn were still gabbing, but much more animatedly, more giggling than Rick thinks he’d ever heard out of Maggie in his life. T had long ago abandoned the crossword and was watching out the windows as they coasted into the city.

Rick's cell buzzed with a text message. He grinned like a dopey teenager when he saw it was Daryl.

_Put on KDJE 100.3._

“Hey Eugene!” Rick called out. Put on 100.3 and turn it up.”

“You got it chief,” Eugene said to the sound of blips from station to station as he searched for the right one.

_“...one of the best concerts he’d ever seen. Security is increased around Little Rock’s Verizon Arena, tonight as Midnight Quarry is scheduled to perform. There've been no more reports on lead singer Rick Grimes’ nervous breakdown. And based on last night's show, the band is ready to bring it, despite whatever might be brewing between Grimes and drummer, Shane Walsh. There were reports of another fight before they took the stage last night. Can they keep it together long enough to get through the rest of the summer tour? Guess we'll find out. But if that tension is what is making their stage performances this good. Well, go ahead and fight, boys!”_

The station transitioned directly into the opening beats of _Welcome to the Tombs_ and Eugene left it on, banging his head to it as they drove.

Once Rick was checked in and unpacked he wandered down to the stage, pretending to check out the layout, but really just looking for Daryl. He bumped into Glenn in the back hall. “He’s out at the soundboard,” the bassist said.

“Who is?” Rick asked, playing dumb.

“Daryl. I mean… shit. I’m not saying that’s who you were looking for or anything. I was just ummm… he’s the only one down here. So if you’re looking…. I know sometimes you like to practice a few riffs on guitar so he’d be able to make sure it’s all-”

“Who told you?” Rick interrupted.

“Not Maggie,” Glenn responded flatly.

Rick chuckled and shook his head as he started making a beeline to the soundboard.

“Rick?” Glenn yelled as Rick was bouncing down the steps with the excitement of a four-year-old heading to the tree on Christmas morning. 

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s nice. You’ve seemed really happy the past few days.”

“Thanks, Glenn,” Rick answered with a nod. “You know… you’ve seemed happy too. What could be doing that?” Rick had an idea of what it was.

“Not Maggie,” Glenn responded flatly attempting unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, ok. Not Maggie.”

Rick heard Daryl before he saw him. “Goddamnit, motherfucking fucker!” His voice was coming from the floor behind the sound panels.

“Thought you were supposed to always be zen? That don’t sound zen.”

Daryl jumped at the sound of Rick’s voice, and his face that had been clearly frustrated, grew softer, a smile stealing away the grumpy frown. “Hey,” he rumbled.

“Eugene drives like a fucking snail, dude. We just got here like twenty minutes ago. Can I help?” Rick asked, looking over all the wires and dials and plugs. 

Daryl laughed. “What? No, dude. You can’t touch my stuff.”

“I touched your stuff last night and didn’t hear any complaints.”

Daryl just grinned. “Are you one of those?”

“One of what’s?”

Daryl lowered his voice “Gonna make everything innuendo now that we’re fuckin.” 

“In my defense you started it this morning with the innuendo.” 

Daryl continued plugging in components, but his eyes stayed on Rick, a smile permanently affixed. 

“Can I at least watch while _you_ touch all this stuff?” Rick asked.

\-----------------

After Rick “helped” Daryl set up, they got a bite to eat together. Daryl had picked up Chinese and brought it to the penthouse at the Little Rock Radisson. The food was gone in twenty minutes but an hour later they were still on the couch, making out like horny teenagers. Daryl's phone rang as Rick was sucking a bruise into his shoulder. 

“I need to take this,” Daryl said as he yanked the cell from his back pocket. He answered as Rick's body was still melded into his. Daryl ran a finger over Rick's bottom lip, christ those snakebite hoops drove him wild.

“Yeah, Merle. How ya doin’?”

“Got you a replacement, little brother”

“A replacement what!?”

“You know, a new G. Toss out the old model. I got ya a good one. Name’s Paul. Now I don't know how to tell if a guy is good lookin’, but he got hair like a girl so I thought maybe that's cool, right?”

Rick was popping open buttons on Daryl's jeans and looking up at him in question.

“Are you telling me you ran into a guy that turns out to be gay and now you are convinced I should date him because I'm gay and he's gay so we’d make a perfect couple?”

“Your welcome,” Merle said, clearly not getting it.

Daryl stifled a giggle at Rick's clumsy attempt to slide his hand into Daryl's now-unbuttoned jeans. 

“Hey- don't forget. I'll be in Atlanta next week. Gonna get ya backstage. Meet the band.”

“Oh good. I got some tips for Grimes. He needs to work on his growling in _Go For The Jugular_.”

“Fuck the jugular,” Rick whispered. “I'm gonna go for this cock if I can get your damn pants off.” The lead singer tugged at the jeans and Daryl giggled again.

“What was that?” 

“What was what?”

“You giggled. Why you giggling?” Merle asked, suspicious.

“Something funny on TV.”

“Something funny on TV. Huh. You know I can tell when you're lying, right?”

“I'm just distracted,” Daryl said. “You see all the excitement that happened in Austin?”

Merle took the bait on the topic change as Daryl attempted to swat Rick’s hand from tugging at his pants again. 

“Sure did. Everyone’s talkin’ about it. Maggie texted me after to let me that you were ok since YOU didn’t think to text me and let me know that you were ok. Soooo…. About this Paul….”

“What about him?”

“Well, are you gonna pretend to be interested or are ya gonna tell me that you and Grimes are doing the dirty? And before you answer, please remember that I’ve been in contact with Mags. Not just last night. Also this morning.”

Rick sat up and stopped his playful antics.

“Is she fucking crazy!?” Daryl hollered into the phone. “That’s classified! Tyreese is gonna fucking shit if that leaks.”

“Oh relax, Drama. I ain’t gonna tell no one. So I’m assuming that’s a confirmation, right?”

“Right. That’s a confirmation,” Rick said loud enough for Merle to hear.

Daryl looked at Rick and shook his head mouthing “No! Nooo!!”

“He’s there?! I knew it! Put him on!” Merle said.

“No, Merle.”

“Put him on! Rick!! HEY RICK!! TAKE THE PHONE, MAN!”

Daryl dropped his head in his hand as Rick slipped the phone out of his grip and put it to his ear.

“Merle Dixon. Nice to meet you. I’m Rick,” Rick said.

Merle barked out a laugh. “Well, you know, now that I hear your voice not screaming into the mic, I do hear a little potential for gay in there.”

“Um. Thanks?”

“Listen- That’s my baby brother and I don't’ think I need to tell you that I will fuck your shit up if you hurt him,” Merle whispered low in the phone so Daryl wouldn’t hear. The roadie tried to lean in to hear, but Rick had stood and walked away with the phone to his ear. 

“Hang up!” Daryl whispered.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Merle. I’ll prove my worth when I meet you in Atlanta.”

“Listen, Bro. You’re losing that grumble at the chorus of Jugular. You gonna make sure you get that fixed by Atlanta?” 

“Well, keep next Friday open and you can give me some pointers,” Rick said.

After Rick hung up, Daryl shook his head. “If you think dating _you_ is hard… you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'll be damned. Rick had a school boy crush on Shane all those years! Who'd have thunk it!?
> 
> Next chapter--who's ready to meet Merle!!? :-)


	16. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Stylepoints for the beta!! She's been known to go back over chapters several times so kudos to her for the hard work!!

Little Rock was crowded but under control. Biloxi was uneventful but successful. In Daytona Beach, Tyreese embellished a story about Rick threatening to kill Shane live on stage. Security was ready for the onslaught of crowds on that one and Rick and Shane snarled at each other during the performance. There wasn’t as much real animosity anymore, but both knew how to put on the show for the crowds. By Atlanta, the band and the crew were very much looking forward to their two-day break.

They pulled into the Four Seasons in Atlanta around three on a Wednesday. Rick climbed off the bus and saw Daryl already there leaning against the back of his truck. He had on a ratty grey Smiths T-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees. His hair was messy from driving with the windows open and he smiled that lopsided grin of his. He looked like home, and the sight of him made Rick’s heart thump a few extra beats in his chest. 

Rick couldn’t wait until the tour was over. Until he was out of the band and living a life where it wouldn’t matter if he walked up to his boyfriend in broad daylight and kissed him. But he’d made promises. To Maggie. To Tyreese. Shane. Himself. And he wouldn’t let his fans down. He’d find a way to slip out of Midnight Quarry soon enough.

“Hey,” Rick said as he walked closer to Daryl and fought the urge to reach out and run a hand up the man’s strong, tanned arm. “What floor you on?”

“Ain’t stayin,” Daryl responded with a smirk. “You either.”

“What?”

Maggie came up behind them, Glenn permanently affixed to her side like he had been for the past few shows. “Do not lose him. Do not take him out without a hat and his jacket zipped up to hide those tats. T-dog goes with you. Remember the agreement.” She looked from Daryl to Rick and pinched the latter’s cheek. “You’re going to adore big brother Dixon, Rick. Tell him I said hi and I’ll be stopping over tomorrow.”

Rick gasped. “I’m allowed to-”

“Get in the truck, darlin’. You’re staying at my place,” Daryl said as he took Rick’s suitcase. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the bag in. As Rick reached over to graze his fingers against Daryl’s in a subtle greeting, another bag was flopped on top of Rick’s.

“I hope you got a spare room, cause I ain’t sleepin’ on no couch,” T-dog said. 

“Oh my God!” Rick said excitedly. “Does Merle know we’re coming?”

“Yup. And he’s already got plans for us for the night. So get ready to humor me for a few days, Rick, because Merle is… Merle.” He shut the back doors and opened the driver’s side, letting Rick climb in first. “Mags even said you can stay with your folks for a day if you want. I understand your circumstances might be different so don’t expect ya to invite me or nothing. T will have to go with you though. That’s the best I could talk Mags into.”

Rick buckled himself into the middle seat, T-dog watching out the passenger side window as they pulled out of the parking lot past a group of fans that had seen the bus pull in. They were none the wiser that frontman, Rick Grimes was leisurely on his way to a friend’s house.

“I can’t go to my folk’s,” Rick said as he tugged his hat low and pulled up the zipper on his jacket, small habits he’d picked up from so many trips sneaking out with Daryl after shows. 

“Why not? They racist?” T-dog asked, his hair already raised and poised for a battle.

Rick laughed. “Nah. They ain’t here. They have a timeshare in the Caribbean. They liked to go there this time of year.”

Daryl looked over to T and then at Rick. “Didn’t you tell them you’d be in town? They didn’t want to meet up with you? You haven’t seen them since last tour, right?”

Rick shrugged. “The one before, I think. It's not really like how it is for you and Merle.”

“What’s that mean?” Daryl asked, a wounded voice like scraped knees or stubbed toes. He hated hearing about Rick’s loneliness. It broke his heart. 

“They don’t … like I dunno. Care that much, I guess.”

“‘M sorry,” Daryl murmured and put a hand on Rick’s knee.

Rick didn’t respond. He really didn’t know any better. He didn’t have the kind of family that Daryl had with Merle and that was fine. He wasn’t going to get all somber about it. But he was excited to see what life was like in a house that had love in it. Because from what Rick could tell, although Merle sounded like he might be larger than life, he cared about his baby brother. And Rick would like to see what that was like to be around. Surrounded by people who were born to love you. 

 

“You want me to go rough them up, boss?” T-dog asked. 

“Nah. Thanks though, buddy.”

When they pulled into the driveway, a tall one-handed man with backwoods Georgia written all over him, came bounding down the front porch, his arms spread wide, one hand reaching towards Rick for a handshake and the other hand… a hook.

He went to Rick first and took his hand. “I just want you to know that I think Shane was a total dick for fucking your wife and putting it on the internet, but if that got you my brother then you traded up.”

“Uh, thanks,” Rick stuttered as the handshake became an affectionate hug. Daryl had been right, Merle wasn’t starstruck at all. He went from Rick to Daryl and hugged his brother.

“You guys aren’t gonna fuck loud, are you? I mean, I’m accepting of his queerness and all,” Merle said as he turned to Rick, “But I don’t want the audio, you feel me, bro?”

“Understood,” Rick said. 

T-dog came around the corner. “I’ll pass on the hugs, dude. I’m just here to protect Midn-, I mean Rick.” 

“ ‘tha fuck are you?” Merle asked, startled by the bodyguard.

“Security.”

“You insinuating that my baby brother can't protect his boyfriend here cause he’s gay? You callin’ him a faggot? Cause I don't take kindly to folks-”

“Merle, he's security,” Daryl interrupted. “It really is that simple. T-dog can sleep on the pullout in the basement.”

“What the fuck kinda name is T-dog?” Merle asked.

“What the fuck kind a name is Merle?” T-dog replied, eyeing this new Dixon up and down.

Rick followed Daryl into the house, his eyes darting between the two men squaring off in the front yard. “Well, this should be fun.”

Merle had planned the evening. He wanted everyone to go to his favorite restaurant. Well, technically it was a food truck on Lincoln Boulevard. But they had the best “beaner food” in west Georgia, according to Merle and T-dog liked that they'd be able to sit at a picnic table away from any crowds.

Rick loved being outside, at a picnic table, sitting thigh to thigh with Daryl. Eating crappy tacos and laughing. Merle hadn't stopped talking since they arrived. 

“What you get?” Merle asked as he leaned over to examine T-dog’s meal. 

“Bean and cheese enchiladas.”

“Bean and cheese? No steak? No ground beef? No chicken? That ain't dinner, that's a side dish.”

“He's a vegetarian,” Rick and Daryl said at the same time.

Merle sat up straight and cocked his head. “I didn’t know negroes could be vegetarians,” he said.

Rick looked over at Daryl in enough time to catch his eye roll.

“Well, it’s the 21st century, Merle. We can do anything,” T-dog responded calmly.

“Can ya sing?” Merle asked.

“No, I don’t sing. Why would I sing?”

Merle clapped the bodyguard on the back as he was shoveling in a forkful of rice.

“Oh you’re gonna sing, man. We’re going to Karaoke after this, boys!” Merle said excitedly.

“No way, man. This is my night off. ‘Sides Mags would have a heart attack if she found out I was out singing somewhere,” Rick said as he shook his head adamantly.

“He don’t wanna hear you,” Daryl said at the same time Merle said “I don’t wanna hear you.”

“You in my neck of the woods and I’m picking the festivities. This is my favorite dive bar and they’re expecting me, man. I got a following.”

Daryl took a chip off Rick’s plate of nachos and Rick smiled at the familiarity and intimacy of such a simple act. He looked back to Merle. “It’s just… you don’t really look like a guy that… enjoys singing Karaoke.”

“I like to surprise people, Rick,” Merle said with a wink.

When they were finished, they drove over to the Karaoke bar and Rick was surprised to find that Merle was right. He did have a following. As soon as they walked in people were greeting him and requesting songs. All Midnight Quarry songs, having no idea the man behind Merle’s shoulder was the band’s lead. Rick and Daryl sat in the back corner, blocked by Merle as he kept everyone’s attention on that side of the table by introducing them all to “his vegetarian friend, T-dog.”

Rick took a sip of the Rolling Rock that Daryl had gotten for him. He hadn’t been out at a bar, without being the one on stage, relaxing and drinking beer since…. Well, had he ever? 

“Are you having fun?” Daryl asked, an arm around the back of Rick’s chair. 

“Yeah, Nice being in the background. Merle must be pretty good, huh?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “He’s just Merle. He makes you like him by telling you you are going to like him.”

“I like him,’ Rick said.

“Of course you do,” Daryl laughed, rolling his eyes. 

When Merle finally took to the stage to sing _Go for the Jugular_ , Rick was in awe. He had the stage presence. He had the lungs. He had the rumble. And the hook? Well that was just a nice damn touch! Rick, Daryl and T-dog cheered wildly as Merle’s song was over, but they didn’t stand out because the rest of the modest-sized club was screaming and cheering as well.

The crowd convinced him to stay up and do four more MQ songs. It didn’t take much convincing. “He loves it up there,” Rick marveled. 

“Yeah, he was in a little rock band back in the day.”

“Yeah?” Rick asked, a huge smile across his face as he watched Merle leaning forward and growling out to one of the women in the front row. “Why’d he stop, man? He’s really good.”

“Me,” Daryl answered and guzzled more of his beer.

Rick looked at him and slipped a hand onto his leg. “Daryl?” Rick asked, waiting until the roadie met his gaze. “Merle doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who would stop doing anything for anybody. He’s not the kinda guy that would do things he didn’t want to do. If he put things on hold to raise you, it’s because he loved you and he WANTED to give you a chance in this life.”

Daryl shrugged. “He seems like a wild kinda guy. But he has a sense of obligation. I was obligation, not want.” 

Rick cocked his head at Daryl and brushed some of his hair back.

“Careful there, Midnight Quarry. Even if people don’t realize who you are right now we’re still in Atlanta and that makes us walking targets for prejudice,” Daryl said as he pulled back a smidge.

Rick shrugged. “People are probably already looking at the four of us. A dude with a hook for a hand, two guys that are tatted all to hell and,” he pointed to T-dog, “a vegetarian.”

Daryl laughed and started clapping as Merle finally left the stage, getting hi-fives and hi-hooks from both sides of the room as he returned to the back table. 

“And that’s how you do it, Grimes. You learn any lessons?” Merle asked as he sat down. 

“I think it’s the hook that’s giving you an edge,” Rick laughed.

“Seriously, man,” Merle said as he pointed to his own gut. You are growling out from your lungs lately like it’s a job, not from your gut. I notice these things, man.”

Rick cocked his head and thought about it. He might be right. Maybe Rick had been faking his passion more and more. “Yeah, okay. I hear ya. Thanks, man.” 

As the night moved on, they were unable to convince T-dog to take the stage and Daryl and Rick were definitely out. But they had fun watching the rest of the audience try their hand at singing. Merle was definitely the star of the night. When it was close to closing time, Daryl slipped off to the bathroom and T-dog was busy gabbing to a table of young women about the dangers of fracking.

Merle kept his eyes on Rick as they lifted the final guzzles of their respective beers to their mouths.

“So you know I’mma kill you if you hurt my brother. He’s a good kid. Sensitive. And I trust after your ole’ lady cheated on you, you know better than to cheat on him. Cause this hook?” He raised his hook. “Was specifically chosen so that I could use it to protect my baby brother. Are we clear?”

Rick nodded and made the ‘cross my heart’ sign. After putting down his empty bottle, he leaned on the table and looked at Merle. “You know, I never had anyone like you.” 

“Never had what? A borderline sexist, homophobic, racist family member? I mean… just borderline. Like I know Andrea ain’t up on that stage just for the tit factor. I know she can tickle those ivories. I mean… she could tickle my ivory too, you know what I’m saying?” Merle said with pervy laugh. “I look out for my brother. Accept him. Hell, I’ll accept you if you’ll be good to him. But I can’t say I don’t wish he was straight. Make his life easier, you know? Been hard for him to meet people out in middle-of-nowhere Georgia. And this one?” Merle covered his hand as he pointed to T-dog. “The ‘vegetarian’. I’m not gonna lie. I have the same line repeating in my head. How in the holy hell do you not eat chicken, boy?”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “You're pretty damn self-aware for a class-A asshole.” 

Merle grinned, clearly liking Rick’s moxie.

“I would have liked to have had a brother like you. You gave up everything for Daryl and don’t think he don’t know it.”

“Give up? What’s that mean?” Merle asked in a rare moment of sincerity and legitimate curiosity.

“Gave up running around with friends, singing in a band, had to take care of Daryl when you were still so damn young yourself.”

“I mean… I didn’t give anything up. I got something. Got a chance to give my kid brother better than he’d had so far. Better than I ever had.”

Rick cocked his head at the wild-eyed, gruff older brother as he continued.

“I ain’t never gonna settle down and get married and have no kids. Daryl’s all I’ll get to make a difference in this world. I wanted to make something out of him. I did. He’s a good man.”

“He is. You did good, Merle. You’re a good man, too,” Rick said. He picked up his beer only to remember it was already empty and put it back down. “I wonder though… you think he realizes all that?” Rick asked.

Merle gave Rick a surprised look, as if it had never dawned on him that Daryl would have thought anything otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... for Wednesday's posting? You may want to have some tissues nearby. I think I got some emotional moments captured. I think. I hope. I'm kinda excited for the next chapter. 
> 
> Did everyone like meeting Merle?!


	17. Better Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra special thanks to Stylepoints for beta'ing! If it weren't for her, this chapter would only be half as long. If you enjoy the breakfast scene, just know it wouldn't have been written if she hadn't pushed me about something more being needed to round out the chapter!

Back at the house, Daryl couldn't sleep, despite being wickedly comfortable in his own bed with Rick tucked up beside him. They had tried their best not to get too physical with Merle in the bedroom next door and T-dog on the pull-out directly below them. They were partially successful. They didn’t have full-on sex, but they did grind against one another til they both came at nearly the same time. And there was a lot of licking at one point. Some sucking… but it was really quiet sucking. Afterwards they may have giggled too loud at some of Daryl’s dorky posters that still hung on his wall. The Smith’s, of course. One of Johnny Cash flipping the bird. And one of a kitten hanging from a string that said “hang in there”. 

As they drifted off to sleep they murmured to one another about what a life could be like outside of the rockstar bubble. There were words like woods and lake and peace and naps. It was a beautiful half-asleep plan and as Daryl tried to nod off, he hoped he’d remember exactly what they talked about so he could give it to Rick one day. Because in all these weeks together, Daryl had realized he wasn’t going after the life of a loner after all. He wanted someone. But he wanted the right someone. And Rick Grimes was his other half. He fit to Daryl like a smooth arrow fit into his crossbow. 

He suddenly remembered that he wanted to show his crossbow to Rick. They might not have time for hunting in this short stop in Atlanta, but Daryl promised he’d take him sometime. And he would one day. Maybe he should pack the bow for the rest of the tour? Before he climbed out of bed he watched Rick sleep for a moment. His face was slack and peaceful. There was no stress, no sadness, no duty. It was just Rick and he was beautiful. It was a full ten minutes before Daryl could tear himself away to get his bow. He slipped out of bed, shivering as the warmth on his skin from Rick’s body cooled. He pulled on his pajama bottoms and quietly tiptoed to the bedroom door. He took a few extra moments to watch Rick, just the hint of a soft snore as he slept peacefully in Daryl’s childhood bed, and the smile on Daryl’s face from the sight of it was so wide it almost hurt. He walked quietly across the living room, fumbled with the door to the garage where he kept his bow and jumped at the sound from the couch behind him.

“Thought you’s was gonna keep the sexual audio down, man?” Merle muttered groggily. He was on the couch with a throw blanket and his leather jacket for a pillow. Daryl squinted. Actually that was Daryl’s leather jacket. But served him right. Daryl had chased the poor guy out there.

“Well, we didn’t… I mean… we … We tried-”

Merle held up a hand. “No explanations please. If your boy is sleeping I’ll go back to my room. Wall’s thin y’know.”

“Shit.” Daryl sat on the recliner and dropped his head to his hands. “I’m fucking sorry, Merle. You asked me for one damn thing. Sharing the house with Rick and with T and I-”

“Jesus. I didn’t know you were the drama kinda gay. I thought you was like one of them ‘surprise, you’d have never guessed he was gay’ types. What’s with all this?” Merle sat up and rested his bulky forearms on his knees, expecting an answer.

“Still always gotta deal with me. Took everything you had raising me and you got nothin’. You’re living in this same dump house we inherited. Not in a band like you wanted to be. Never got with that Jesse Anderson you chased around in high school. No job. Got a fucking hook for a hand. I ruined your life, Merle. You’ve given me everything and I never gave you shit.” 

Merle sat up taller on the sofa.

“You what!?” he hissed. “I did what I did, Daryl, because I _wanted_ to do it. _I_ wanted it. And you know what? I did a goddamn good job. You are a good man. You have a good job. A good life. You’re smart. You were what I wanted to do. Wanted to do it right, too. You wanna give back? How ‘bout you give me less lip? Don’t tell me I got nothin’. I got plenty.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, which with Merle was rare. Daryl picked at some loose threads from the recliner. “How did you even get me? You were eighteen. A juvie regular,” Daryl asked quietly.

“Mr. Greene, man.”

“Maggie’s dad?”

“Yeah. Just got busted on that little car incident. You know some people would call it theft, but good ole’ Hershel Greene called it a misunderstandin’ and dropped the charges. Alls he wanted from me was a word. Talked to me one night a few weeks before pa died. Had me over for dinner. Said I had to come ‘cause he dropped those charges. Like blackmail, man. Met Maggie and her kid sister that night. Had spaghetti,” Merle nodded and smiled at the memory. 

“He talked to me like a real dad. Saw how he was with his girls. Thought... This is bullshit. I shouldn’t be selling coke and stealing cars. Am I gonna let pa write my story? Just cause he was shit, I’m supposed to be shit, too?! Fuck that. I wanted a Hershel. I _wanted_ that. And if I couldn’t have it, I wanted to BE it. So I befriended Maggie to get more spaghetti. And more of Hershel just telling me the way life oughta be. Cause my plan was to start raising you right. Giving you what Hershel was giving me and giving his girls...even before pa died.”

Merle sat back in the couch and put his arms behind his head. “When pa died, I went to the Greene’s ‘fore I even came to get you outta school. Begged him to help me keep you. Begged him to teach me to be good like he was. Raise you right.” 

Merle laughed and sat forward, his forearms on his knees again. “Now you may have noticed I didn’t clean all the way up, but I think I did a decent job.”

Daryl gaped at his older brother. He’d never heard this before. Merle was invested in raising him even _before_ they lost their dad? To find out that Daryl hadn’t been a burden but was a sense of pride to Merle was astonishing. It wasn’t a sense of obligation just….just that Merle loved him.

“Only thing I did wrong was makin’ it so you thought you put me out by raisin’ ya. Shoulda made sure you knew I was proud to be your brother and proud a what you grown into. Worried ‘bout ya when you was younger. Pa makin’ ya skittish. Makin’ ya feel worthless, afraid to do the things you wanted to do.”

Merle started folding up the throw blanket. “You beat him though, kiddo. Went to that sound technician school thing, learned to work at the garage. Good with money. Ain’t shy no more like when you was nine, ten. Ain’t afraid no more. You’re strong and brave. And Goddamn would that piss off Pa,” Merle laughed.

Daryl blinked back tears and stared down at the coffee table. Minutes went by, marked by the ticks from an old clock on the wall. “Merle?”

“Yeah, kid?” Merle said as he stood.

Daryl looked up at him with damp eyes. Sincere. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go on back to bed and try not to fuck your guy, ok? Boundaries, buddy.” Merle ruffled Daryl’s sleep strewn hair. “You’re the best thing I ever done and don’t you forget it again, boy.” Merle walked back to his room as he scratched at his ass and belched. Daryl smiled. Right now, knowing what he knows about Merle and having Rick sleeping in his bed… he may never have been happier in his life. 

He got his crossbow and left it by his bags for the next day and then slipped back into his bedroom and crawled under the covers with his lover. Rick turned towards him, put an arm around Daryl and gave him a light squeeze. Daryl felt one of Rick’s guitar calloused fingers swipe at a tear that hadn’t dried off his cheek yet. “He’s right. The walls are thin,” Rick said quietly as he kissed Daryl’s shoulder.

“You heard all that?”

“Yeah,” Rick said sleepily. “You got a damn good brother.”

“Rick. Can’t leave Georgia now. If I'm not a burden then it's like… abandoning him. Gotta come back after the tour.”

“Then I’ll move to Georgia,” Rick answered without a second’s hesitation and he wrapped his arm even tighter around his lover to emphasize his point.

\--------------------

The next morning T-dog was up first. He’d risked a trip down to the corner store to pick up some ingredients for an honest-to-god, home-made breakfast. The smell of it cooking drew Rick, Daryl and Merle all out of their rooms at the same time. 

“What the hell is that smell?” Merle asked with his husky, morning voice.

“This here’s breakfast. Vegan eggs and sausage made from soy. You won’t even be able to tell the-”

“See this here is why I don’t make friends with ‘vegetarians’,” Merle grumbled. 

“Just try it, man.”

“I’ll try it,” Daryl sighed and grabbed a piece of the “sausage” and ate it. Everyone watched him for a reaction. “I have to brush my teeth now,” he said as he excused himself.

Rick watched Daryl walk away and then looked down at the plate of food. Merle picked up a link with his hook and shoved it at Rick. “Go on. It’s rude not to,” he teased. Rick plucked it off his hook and took a bite. 

“It tastes like hook. I think I’ll just have the coffee.”

“He’s more of a jugular guy, anyway, T-dog. Big meat eater,” Merle explained. “Don’t take offense.”

“Good news! Ketchup is vegetarian. Merle - come on man. Humor me.” T-dog put a plate of “eggs” and “sausage” in front of Merle with a bottle of ketchup. Merle covered it all with a thick layer of Heinz and took a few bites. “Not bad. Tastes like tomato.”

When Daryl returned, Rick handed him a cup of coffee. Before they could even think of a morning kiss, Merle blurted out with his mouth full “Don’t kiss him, Daryl, he ate the Soy Sausage. And it came off my hook and you don’t know where this thing’s been.”

As they sat down having a relaxing breakfast in an actual house and not a hotel, they discussed their free day.

“We should take a tour of the city,” T-dog said enthusiastically.

“You’re the only one who ain’t lived in this city,” Daryl said with his mouth full of the Frosted Flakes he opted for. “It’s a shit hole. Just like every other city.”

“We could go down to Joe’s Tavern and hoist a few,” Merle recommended with his mouth full of Ketchup.

Rick looked at him with his jaw dropped. “Now? It’s 10 a.m.”

Merle swallowed and washed it down with a slug of sweet tea. “Not just now. I meant all day. You’re a Rock Star. Ain’t that what ya’ do?”

“We are not sitting around in a bar all day, Merle.” Daryl said as if it were a sentence that had fallen off his tongue more than once.

“Are we really having this much trouble trying to figure out what to do on one of our only days off in three months?” T-dog asked. “I mean, technically,” he grumbled in Rick’s direction, “I’m still on the clock watching _your_ ass.” 

Merle knocked T playfully on the back of the head with his good hand. “You ain’t on the clock, idiot. Anyone sees Rick, Daryl and I got it covered. Daryl’s his boyfriend so he’s supposed to protect him anyway. Me, however… if something goes down, I got that shit… but I’mma need to get paid.”

Daryl tried to knock Merle playfully on the back of the head but the older Dixon dodged it. “Could do some huntin’,” Daryl suggested. “I wanted to show Rick my crossbow and-”

“No,” T-dog said firmly. “I see it already. You give him the bow to try it and he shoots himself in his own fucking thigh. No way.”

Daryl looked at Rick with a smile as the off-duty lead singer cocked his head back and forth pretty much admitting that T-dog’s outcome was likely. “I’d rather go hunting with you alone anyway,” Rick whispered to Daryl with a wink.

“Whisperin’ don’t work when we’re four inches apart at a tiny kitchen table, Dumbass,” Merle said as bits of fake egg fell out of his mouth.

“I got an idea,” Rick said after he shook his head for the tenth time to Daryl’s held out offer of a spoonful of Frosted Flakes. “Let’s just do nothing.”

After a two hour discussion about who should do the dishes, they left the dishes in the sink and plopped down in front of the TV. There was a MASH marathon on and they spent the entire day watching. Merle did the Hawkeye parts. Daryl did the BJ parts and who would have known… T-dog knew most of Hotlips Hoolihan’s lines. Rick just laughed as he was tucked against Daryl on the couch. He’d never sat around a TV in a living room with so much laughter and happiness and friendship and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who's been loving the crap out of Merle since day one- I've been dying to get you this chapter. I hope it worked.  
> Maybe we'll see more of Merle before its all over? ;-)


	18. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Stylepoints as always for the Beta!
> 
> Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day at work so I'm posting a bit early. Better early than late, right?

Backstage in Atlanta was frantic. Shane was ridiculously hungover. Andrea had somehow caught a stomach bug and she was puking in Glenn’s bucket. Morales was walking around shouting into his cell, apparently one of the kids got a D on their report card. And Merle was all over the place, being Merle. 

“Hey sugar-tits, I got something that might help that nausea,” he said, leering at Andrea.

Andrea looked up at him like she was considering it for a moment. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Merle Dixon, at your service. It's been brought to my attention that you are quite a whore. Just wanted to let you know that I respect that. Ain’t right for a man to sleep around and get high-fived for it and a woman to do the same and it’s looked down on.”

Andrea nodded at him, eyeing him suspiciously and still hovering over the puke bucket. “You’re a real gentlemen,” she said, dripping sarcasm.

“Merle!” Maggie shouted, running over to give him a hug. “I’d have been so pissed if I blew through Atlanta without getting to see you! Saw you put the flowers at Daddy’s grave for me. Thank you.”

Daryl rushed past and patted Merle on the back. “Stay out of the way, okay, bro?” he said. 

Rick was nearby talking animatedly to Glenn as Eugene walked in watching something on his cell phone. 

The awkward bus driver patted Rick on the back. “I don’t think the world worries with these kinds of shenanigans anymore. I wouldn’t worry that the situation is out of control. There’s a lot of variables at play here and most likely it will fade away before TMZ….” Eugene slowly stopped talking as he noticed everyone in the room looking at him. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Eugene?” Rick asked.

Eugene looked around at all the eyes on him. “What were you discussin’ with Glenn in such an animated fashion?”

“Where he could puke since Andrea is using his bucket. What is this situation?”

“Uhhh… nothin’.” 

Rick grabbed his phone. “What is this? Is this a video? Daryl- is this YouTube? How do I make it play?”

Daryl came over and grabbed the phone from Rick, pressing a few buttons and then the whole crew leaned in to listen and look over shoulders. Lori came to life on the small screen and Daryl leaned in closer to listen over the sound of Woodburried wrapping up their last song out on stage.

_Lori: “Well, I think I probably knew all along. It sure has put me in a unique situation.”_

_Off-screen Interviewer: “Lori, did you ever sleep with the both of them same time?”_

_On the screen Lori laughed and flipped back her long brown hair. “Oh no. Shane and Rick kept their love affair a secret. I just feel so stupid to have been used by both of them. I don’t know what else to say… it was such a long marriage. It was more like I was married to the band than just Rick. I mean, I know people want to hear about this and that’s why I wrote the book-”_

“That BITCH!” Shane yelled. “That’s a fucking lie!”

“Of course it’s a lie,” Maggie said trying to get control of the situation before everyone started getting out of hand. “She’s just trying to get her fifteen minutes. Tyreese will take care of it, I’m not even worried. Now shake this off and get onstage.”

Rick turned to Daryl as he was already walking away. “Daryl!” Rick yelled and before he could chase after him, Tyreese had a hand on his shoulder. “No drama tonight, Rick. Get on stage.”

“I need to… He thinks we really are… We aren’t. We never have. Now Daryl thinks-”

“Talk to him later, Grimes. You have a show!” Tyreese yelled. Rick was furious. This fucking life. These priorities aren’t right. This is not the way it should be. Rick needed to talk to Daryl. To tell him Daryl is the one, the only one. This fucking life! Rick felt anger rising in his gut and he clenched his hand into a fist and punched the wall. The cement wall.

After Rick’s hand was splinted and bandaged, Maggie came rushing back over. “I think Phillip from Woodburried can handle guitar for you. He says he knows most of the songs and can wing the rest,” she said as the sound of the Quarry chant got louder and louder. 

“No,” Rick said. He pointed to Eugene with his good hand. The bus driver was eating a carrot from the veggie tray that T-dog always insisted they should have on the buffet table backstage and he was watching something else on his cell phone. “Eugene knows every single song. He’ll handle guitar.”

“I will?” Eugene asked, looking up. “Sweet.” He finished eating, tucked his cell in his pocket and walked out on stage without a bit of nerves. 

“Merle,” Rick said to the burly man who was leaning with his arms folded against the wall that Rick had punched. “Please text Daryl and make sure he knows that there isn’t and never was anything with Shane. He probably thinks I cheated on him.”

“Yup. Probly. You better fix that shit cause I don't want to have to punch you with my hook hand. I will if I have to. But I'd rather not.”

Rick nodded as Maggie was dragging him on stage. “Understood. Text him. Don't let him be worried all night!”

\-----------------------

Daryl was waiting at the sound boards for his cue. He heard a text and checked his cell. It was Merle.

_Ain't what you think. He ain't cheating. Never had a thing with Shane. Just a schoolboy unreciprocated crush back in the day. Don't be a bitch about it._

Daryl tapped out a response with hard angry fingers.

_Course he'd tell you that. You'd hook-punch him in my honor._

Merle responded: _Hit the lights, bro. Mags says it’s showtime._

After Daryl set up the lighting for _Made to Suffer_ , he frowned at something out of place on stage. Shane… Andrea…. Glenn…. Fucking Eugene? On Rick's guitar?

Shane started the drum beat and Eugene came in right on time as Rick walked out on stage, his hand bandaged up, clearly unable to play. The crowd went wild at the sight of it. Bad ass Rick Grimes, kicking ass and taking names. 

He reached the microphone and cried out the opening lyrics with more gut than ever before, _Ain't dead yet, but that's what we’re here for…”_ He sang with his usual power and strength and anger. He moved around the stage with more freedom than usual since he wasn't on guitar. His body moved and writhed to the seductive beats of the music. He was gorgeous. Asshole.

Daryl fumbled with the lighting to catch up with the additional body on stage. And he kept squinting to see if anyone in the band had a nose or an eye that looked like it met the other end of Rick's fist. Maybe he laid into Shane for spilling their little secret.

At the end of the first song Rick motioned for the band to quiet down a bit. He paced the stage, his body moving in that Rick Grimes-patented motion, all sexy and confident, rhythm and intent.

Shane tapped out a soft drum beat. Glenn just a few flicks at the bass and Andrea, an impromptu melody soft from the keyboards giving Rick his background music. 

Daryl folded his arms and watched, expecting some typical shit. Some “Hello Atlanta’s” or some “Let’s kick this shit up,” or whatever.

Rick lifted the microphone to his mouth and said quietly. “Atlanta, right?”

The crowd screamed. 

“Atlanta. You all got some hard concrete walls backstage,” he said as he raised his injured hand.

The crowd cheered again. 

“You think I look bad you should see the wall. Got blood all over it. Don't think it will ever be the same.”

The crowd laughed and cheered and Shane switched over to a slightly different drumbeat trying to match Rick's mood.

“Can I introduce you to my friend Eugene here on lead guitar. Wouldn't have been able to have a show without him.”

Eugene looked to the others and they each gave him encouraging nods. The rocket scientist-turned-bus driver-turned-lead guitarist made the electric guitar scream out, the crowd going nuts.

“He's pretty good, yeah?”

Cheering. 

“We got Andrea Harrison on Keyboards. You guys like her?”

The crowd yelled again as Andrea keyed a version of the _Go for the Jugular_ chorus.

“She's looking for a date later. Any takers?” The crowd roared and Rick laughed.

“Glenn Rhee. Bass.”

And Glenn punched out a solo. “Thank God for Glenn’s garage or none of us would be here. Gotta start somewhere.”

After, the impromptu melody they were all softly playing got quieter, Shane's drum beat got louder.

“How many y’all lookin’ to see if Shane has a black eye in the shape of my fist?”

Laughter, applause. “You gonna kill him onstage?” Someone yelled from the front row.

“Am I gonna kill him onstage this guy asks,” Rick repeated for the crowd. “Well, depending on where you get your gossip, some of you might have been wondering if I was gonna fuck him onstage.” Rick said loud.

Daryl put his head in his hands. Jesus Christ.

“DO IT!!” A woman shouted out. Followed by several other voices in agreement. Rick walked to the drumset and tapped at a cymbal with his finger.

“Nah. Shane ain't my type. Plays good drums though, don't he?”

Shane went into a wild drum session, muscles bulging and sweat flying off his body as he played. The crowd screamed and whistled.

At the end of it, he rolled back into the soft background music they were all supplying for Rick.

“Daryl Dixon is on the sound board. Can't hear shit without him.” Rick shielded his eyes from the light and pointed.

Daryl ducked his head down and nodded, a blush rising in his cheeks.

The crowd clapped politely, loud, but not as loud as they did for the faces they were used to seeing on stage.

“Now _he's_ my type.” The crowd half-cheered and half murmured in confusion. “Don't really give a shit if anyone don't like it. My dick is my business right? Don't make me any less able to go for the Jugular.” And on that word Shane slipped into the drum beat for the song they usually did for their encore. Andrea, Glenn and Eugene followed his lead and Rick growled out the lyrics, stomping across the stage to wild cheers for the fan favorite. Rick gave Eugene an opening mid-way through for an impromptu solo and the bus driver made quite an impression.

Daryl fumbled with the lighting to adjust for the change to the set list. Did Rick Fucking Grimes just _come out_ on stage? ...And point to Daryl!? His heart fluttered. His first boyfriend never even sat close to Daryl in public much less confessing affection in front of two thousand judgemental Alabamans. G would only show that affection when he knew they were in a place it wasn't frowned upon. Rick was making his apology the only way he could. From stage through thousands of screaming fans. Maybe Lori _was_ just making shit up. 

By the time the show was over, Daryl wondered how they'd handle an encore since they'd already played _Go for the Jugular_ out of order. He put the lights down and a few moments later moved them back up as he saw Rick walking back out to the stage, the rest of the band getting back in place. 

“Already sang our encore,” Rick said into the mic.

“One more, Rick!” the crowd screamed. Names of some songs they hadn't done were yelled out. Names of their favorites.

“Got a friend here with me tonight. Thought you might like him. Merle?” Rick shouted over to the curtain.

What!? Daryl was stunned.

Merle jogged out on stage and took the mic. “Rick Grimes everyone!” Merle said, motioning to the lead singer. Rick took a dorky bow. How could the world not realize what a dork he was, Daryl wondered. And he found himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Merle raised his hand with the hook. “I ain't saying I'm better than Grimes here, but I laid into that same concrete wall and let's just say… I won.”

The crowd roared and Rick giggled. 

“You gonna play the damn music or what?” Merle said turning to the band, the mic picking it up and echoing it into the entire stadium. Shane counted off the 1, 2, 3 and Rick quietly walked off stage as Merle’s sandpaper and cut glass voice screamed into the microphone to wild cheers from the crowd. Daryl was impressed. Merle put on a hell of a show and boy was he having fun. At the end, Rick walked back out onstage and applauded Merle along with the rest of the crowd. 

It was stage one of his exit strategy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... Did you guys remember that? From the poker night? That Eugene was a fan and played guitar and knew all the songs? 
> 
> Next up- Stuff.  
> Y'know... And thangs.


	19. I Ain't a Judas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks goes out to Stylepoints because I had to edit the shit out of this chapter half a dozen times. Poor thing had to re-read it so much she probably has it memorized! 
> 
> To those of you who are really paying attention- The answer is yes. This now says it's 21 chapters. I have added a short Epilogue. :-)
> 
> Also- I know this is another early Monday chapter. Apparently I'm better at daily posting (like I've done for most of my other long fics) than keeping to a complicated schedule! LOL
> 
> And now I give you .... stuff and thangs...

Once the stadium was fairly empty and Daryl was half-way through teardown on the soundboard, Morales and Axel came out to the floor with him. “Hey, guys. Weird fuckin’ show huh?” Daryl said, trying to rush because he desperately wanted to get back to see Rick. 

“Weird fuckin’ show? That’s what you got to say about it?” Axel asked as he started helping pull the wires off the floor.

“Dude. You’re _fucking_ the lead singer,” Morales said, gaping at Daryl in awe.

Daryl stifled a grin. “Guess it ain’t no secret no more.”

“Well, he seems like a good guy, other than taking too much of my money at poker. I think you traded up. Fuck that G dude you was always lamenting about,” Axel said. 

Morales took the board panel from Daryl’s hands. “We could tell by the way he looks at ya. No surprise when we heard that tonight.”

“Tyreese pissed?” Daryl asked.

“Nah. Something about loving the evolution of unplanned PR and he loves Merle. Already tweeting out rumors about how he chewed off his own hand.” 

Daryl laughed. “Amazing to see him up there. Bet he had the time of his life.” Daryl tried to reach for the bag they packed the wires in but Morales grabbed that too. “What happened to Rick’s hand?” Daryl asked.

“He punched a concrete wall, just like he said. We got this, Daryl. You’re usually the last one setting up every damn night,” Axel said. “Work your ass off every stop. Take the night off. Me and Morales got this. Go see your boy.”

Daryl had no choice but to grin at that. “Thanks, man. I...I.. better go make sure he’s ok.”

\-------------------

Rick was in his dressing room. His hand was still throbbing. He’d definitely have to get it looked at by real doctors. But that wasn’t his main concern. His main concern was Daryl. Making sure he knew the truth. There was nothing with Shane. He needed to make sure he heard Rick clearly over the sound of the crowd, make sure he understood. He wanted Daryl. And he didn’t care who knew it. 

After killing time pacing for what felt like hours he figured he’d be in the clear. Surely the crowd was mostly gone and Daryl would be alone tearing down the sound board out in the arena. He walked to the door and opened it. Daryl was standing outside ready to knock. 

They locked eyes. “Lori was lying,” Rick said. “I had a crush back in highschool. Nothing happened. Ever. And I’ve been over it for years. I’m in love with you. Just you. I would never-”

Daryl walked in and kicked the door shut behind him, eyes dark like an angry ocean pulling Rick in like the tide tugs at the shore. He took Rick’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to his lover’s. Their mouths fit together like melody and rhythm. Daryl backed Rick up to a wall as the lead singer spread the fingers of his good hand into Daryl’s shaggy hair, holding his head steady and devouring him, tongues and lips and teeth and moans all intertwined, all one. Daryl’s hands had run down the length of Rick’s lean, sweaty torso. “You didn’t have to out yourself for me,” Daryl murmured against Rick’s frantic kisses, as he suckled and licked at the rings on his bottom lip. He pulled away and gently took Rick’s bandaged hand in his, examining it closely.

“Wanted to come after you when you misunderstood... but this fucking life. I had to go on,” Rick said. He watched Daryl turning his hand over and grimacing at how swollen it was. “It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine,” Rick whispered. He pressed his mouth back to Daryl’s, parting his lips in invitation and the roadie plunged his tongue inside claiming every inch of Rick’s warm mouth.

“I know how to get us out. How to get me out of the band and you out of Georgia, Rick whispered as Daryl moved his mouth down the length of Rick’s neck tracing the lines of his tat like he had so many times since Austin.

“Right now all I’m concerned about is getting us both out of our pants,” Daryl growled. They stripped hurriedly, Daryl helping Rick slid his injured hand out of his shirt. Rick was dying from want and need, his head rolled back against the wall as Daryl came back against him, naked, licking and sucking at his neck. The sound of his mouth like an ocean the way it made all the other noises around them insignificant. The moving of tables and equipment and the voices from the hall, they disappeared and were replaced with nothing but the soft sound of Daryl’s tongue against Rick’s burning flesh, the sound of his breath, his soft, contented sighs.

Daryl’s hands cupped at Rick’s ass as the lead singer walked Daryl to the couch, backing him up to it until Daryl fell onto it clumsily. 

“It was excruciating watching those bowed legs of yours strutting around that stage, watching your mouth so close the microphone and worrying that you were done with me,” Daryl said softly. 

Rick straddled his lover, pressing their hard cocks tight together, running his good hand along Daryl’s broad shoulders. “I died a thousand deaths up there worried about what you thought. You know now, right? You understand, there is only you.” 

“I’m in love with you, too, Rick,” Daryl whispered like it was his deepest, darkest secret. “Wasn’t my plan to let that happen again, y’know.”

“Well,” Rick said as he brushed Daryl’s hair back from his face, “it wasn’t my plan to be in a hard rock band screaming out lyrics about death and mayhem. Shit happens.”

Daryl grinned and leaned up, lips parted, eyes begging and pleading for Rick to kiss him again. And Rick obliged. Daryl tasted like the air at Lake Tahoe, like the freedom of a walk down a city street, like celebration, like future. His lips were both needy and giving at the same time. 

Rick reached for his discarded jeans and fumbled through a pocket with his good hand, coming up with a small bottle of lube. 

“Look at you, all prepared,” Daryl teased as he ran his thumb along Rick’s bottom lip, tugging softly at each of the lip rings. 

“Thought maybe we could try something different this time,” Rick murmured. Daryl ran a finger from Rick’s soft, full lips, down his neck to a nipple. He circled it with his finger and then tugged at it gently with his forefinger and thumb. Rick groaned. In the weeks since they’d become physical they spent a lot of late nights discovering one another’s bodies. Learning likes and dislikes, needs and really needs. 

“You thought of something different, huh?” Daryl asked as he brought his other hand to Rick’s other nipple and tugged playfully at both.

“Yes,” Rick groaned, both as answer to the question and encouragement for Daryl to keep doing what he was doing.

“You ever think about getting a nipple ring?” Daryl asked as he tugged. “I think you’d love that shit.”

Rick grinned. “I think _you’d_ love that shit,” Rick said with a smile. “I know how you obsess over my snake bites.”

Daryl shook his head. “Don’t get them for _me_. I ain’t like the others. Not gonna use you to front a shitty band or force you to change your favorite sneakers. I’m always gonna want whatever you want.”

Rick rocked his body against Daryl’s. Their cocks both swollen and dripping. “So I can do what I want?” Rick asked flirtatiously. 

“Course,” Daryl responded, his eyes dark, bold blue and intense. It was easy to read Daryl’s eyes. He was so simple to understand. So uncomplicated. He didn’t demand anything of Rick. All he wanted was to be a part of him. To be together. And that was something Rick had never had. A person who loved him unconditionally. Who wanted him completely. Who wanted to be there. Not just someone who wanted Rick for his voice or his fame or his talents. But someone who wanted Rick, period. Daryl was everything. The best friend he never truly had in Shane. The lover that he wanted Lori to be but she never was. The family that he never felt because of distant parents and no siblings. Daryl was love, pure love. He was everything.

“I want you inside me this time,” Rick whispered as he pressed a quick kiss against Daryl’s parted lips. 

Daryl blinked. “Wasn’t sure that was a thing you’d be willing to try,” he said, his voice deeper than Rick had ever heard it. Rick hadn’t made an effort to ask to switch roles yet, because he worried it wasn’t something _Daryl_ would want. But Rick could tell by the roadie’s expression that he was very much interested.

“When I’m in you, Daryl, I feel like you’re mine. Like you belong to me. I want you to feel that. Want you to know I’m yours.” Rick winced a little as he used his damaged hand to squirt out some lube on the fingers of his good hand. Daryl reached up to help but Rick knocked his hands out of the way with his elbow. “I’m fine,” he insisted. He pumped Daryl’s cock twice to coat it, then, straddling Daryl, lifted up enough to penetrate himself with his own fingers.

“Holy fuck, Rick” Daryl whispered, eyes wide as he watched Rick prep himself right there on Daryl’s lap. Rick’s name on Daryl’s tongue was like the chorus of a favorite song and Rick wanted to hear more of it. When Daryl said it, he meant Rick. He didn’t mean Rick Grimes. He didn’t mean Midnight Quarry. He didn’t mean international superstar. He meant Rick. Just Rick.

“I love hearing you say my name,” he whispered.

“Rick,” Daryl said again softly, the tone of his voice conveying love and trust and want and sex. Not hesitating to give to Rick the very thing he wanted.

Rick put a hand on Daryl’s cock, lined him up and he slid himself down onto his lover, slowly, excruciatingly slow, until he was completely filled. Daryl was looking up at Rick’s face, watching him. Studying him. Wanting him.

The lead singer balanced himself with an elbow on the back of the couch, attempting to keep the pressure off his damaged hand as he lifted and lowered himself, taking his time with gentle movements. He groaned and gasped as he fucked himself on Daryl’s thick cock.

“Yessss,” Daryl whispered, his voice barely a shiver of sound. His pupils were blown, his lips parted in wonder. “I like the feel of you belonging to me.” He gently put a hand on Rick’s forearm above his injury and Rick knew it was his way of trying to help steady him without looking too much like he was babying the swollen hand. He never had someone that cared like this. So completely.

“It’s ok like this? You like it?” Rick asked as he continued his movements. He wanted to be everything Daryl wanted because Daryl was everything _he_ wanted. 

“Fffffuck, yes,” Daryl whispered again, barely audible, like a whisper of wind through trees.

“I always want to give you what you want, Daryl,” Rick said as he rocked up and down faster, enjoying the sensations, the fullness and the sudden lack of it. The slide in and the slide back out. The feeling of Daryl having him completely, being part of him.

Their bodies found a rhythm and they moved together like the sound of guitar and bass making something beautiful as they became one. The sounds of flesh connecting, of moans and heavy breaths cocooned them. All Rick felt was Daryl. All he thought of was Daryl. All he wanted was Daryl. 

“Fuck, Rick,” Daryl whispered again and Rick knew his lover was close. They’d been together enough times for Rick to sense the change in the pitch of his voice, the slackness of his mouth, the daze in his eyes. The roadie reached up and tugged again at Rick’s nipples, pulling him closer, changing Rick’s position just slightly so that his cock was rubbing up against Daryl’s stomach as he fucked himself faster on Daryl’s hard, thick dick. Rick wrapped his good hand tight around his own length. The sensations from Daryl inside him, below him, part of him were indescribable. His hard cock throbbed and strained in his hand. He barely needed to touch it for all of his feelings to coalesce into an orgasm that was speeding through him like a freight train. He groaned and sobbed as he exploded, shooting himself all over Daryl’s bare chest as he continued his rise and fall on Daryl’s cock.

“That’s it, Rick. You are so fucking beautiful,” Daryl groaned. He put his hands on Rick’s hips and stilled him, rutting up into his lover instead and setting his own pace. He kept his eyes on Rick’s eyes. They swallowed him whole like he was drowning in a deep blue ocean. They used to be innocent, lonely and sad but now they were alive. They were happy. And they looked at Daryl in a way that no one ever had. This was not a man who would hurt him. This was a man who would love him like he was born to do it. Rick was his, he could feel it. Daryl’s heart was so full, his cock so warm and tight inside of his lover. His eyes fluttered shut. His sweat-damp hair stuck to his neck and he felt Rick’s seed drying in the fine hairs on his chest. He was swimming in an ocean of Rick and everything in him fired into an explosive orgasm, he held Rick tight by the hips as he rocked out his orgasm, pulsing inside Rick and hearing nothing but heavy breaths and his own heartbeat. 

Rick pulled off slowly and curled up next to Daryl on the couch, both breathing hard. He was sated and peaceful and in love. His bandaged hand laid on Daryl’s chest and the roadie rubbed gently at Rick’s forearm. “It’s okay,” Rick whispered with a smile. “I don’t even notice it right now.” 

“Well, you’re gonna once the post-orgasm daze wears off. You need to get that looked at. Like tonight,” Daryl insisted.

“I will,” Rick promised as he snuggled himself against Daryl, kissing at those broad shoulders, enjoying the new feeling of having someone worry about him that way. 

“So how do we escape?” Daryl asked after a few minutes of comfortable quiet between them. 

“Your brother. And Eugene. With a whisper, not a bang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next- How Midnight Quarry dances off into the sunset. 
> 
> We are almost to our "happily ever after"!


	20. What's Happening and What's Going On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Stylepoints for doing all her stuff and thangs!!

“Is this how fame works? I don't got to pack my own bags?” Merle asked as he tried to stay out of Rick and Daryl's way.

“It will go faster if we pack while you talk. Don't got time for you to stop every ten seconds to give us your philosophy on life,” Daryl said as he shoved a stack of boxers that had seen better days into the old suitcase.

“This is really gonna put a damper on my disability checks,” Merle said shaking his head.

Rick turned from the closet, his face still scrunched in disgust over the “While you were reading this, I farted.” tee shirt hanging there. “I can ask Maggie not to pay ya,” he offered.

“You’re a smart ass, Grimes,” Merle grumbled. “I hope to _God_ you're the one getting speared in the ass on the regular and I hope it hurts.”

“It don't,” Rick and Daryl answered at the same time.

Once his bag was packed, they all climbed into the truck to head to Raleigh. Rick sat in the middle squished thigh to thigh between two Dixons while Merle waxed poetic about his plans to woo Andrea. (Word on the street was that she’d started fucking Phillip from the opening band and Merle had intentions on showing her how _wood_ is really _buried_ ) 

Rick tried not to listen as he scribbled out his exit strategy for Tyreese in a notebook as best he could with his bandaged hand. It was broken in three places and would take the rest of the tour before he could even think about playing guitar again.

Rick's phone dinged and he read a text from Eugene. 

_Rick- Maggie wants to steal my bus and make me sit in the back so I'm well rested. Tell her to stop._

Rick laughed and shook his head.

_Maggie don't listen to me. You're fucked._

Merle read over Rick's shoulder. “Oh no, no, he said, reaching out for the phone with his hook. “Gimme. I'll call her.”

Rick just blinked at Merle. “I can't put this phone in your hook, dumbass.”

Merle looked at his hook then grabbed the phone with his actual hand and scrolled through Rick's contacts till he found Maggie.

“Hey, Mags. It's the talent,” Merle barked into the phone.

“I kinda feel bad for Mags with this new plan of yours, Rick,” Daryl said with a smile. Rick slid a hand onto the roadies thigh. “I mean, not that bad,” Daryl continued “But you know…”

Rick chuckled and kissed at Daryl's temple.

“Whoa! No PDA in the cab, Goddamnit!” Merle yelled, in mid-babble to Maggie.

Rick put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, Okay. I'll behave.”

Merle went back to the phone. “So anyway… He likes driving the bus and if you let him do it for the next few legs of the tour he’ll get his fill then he’ll realize himself he needs the rest.”

Rick and Daryl exchanged a surprised look.

After Maggie must have replied on the other end, Merle simply answered. “From your daddy, girl. You know that.”

He hung up and handed the phone back to Rick.

“I don't know that I really get you, Merle,” Rick said with a smile.

Merle grinned that long slow grin of his “Me either, brother. I'm a damn mystery to me.”

In Raleigh, Merle came out for the encore where he and Rick sang _Go For The Jugular_ tag-team style. 

In Alexandria, he sang _Welcome to the Tombs_ solo mid-way through the show and he and Rick did the encore together again. Alexandria was where Eugene finally relented on the bus and they picked up a driver named Tobin for the rest of the Tour.

By Chicago, Merle was fucking Andrea. Maggie and Glenn we're still vehemently protesting that anything was going on between them even though Eugene caught them kissing half a dozen times. And Merle was doing two solos during each show.

In Denver, Tyreese had worked such wonders with PR about the new mystery man on tour, that the crowd was actually chanting for Merle after Rick coyly announced that he might need a five minute break in the middle of the show. The dueling encore at the end continued to get the crowed more and more excited with each stop and Merle and Rick got better and better together on stage.

In Seattle, Shane and Merle were interviewed on the local news channel. Rick was unable to be there for the interview because he was having his hand looked at. That was what Tyreese said. Rick wasn't really getting his hand looked at. It was all part of the plan he’d gotten Tyreese’s support on. The ‘out with a whisper’ plan.

The interview was perfect. Shane and Merle had great camaraderie and banter. Half buddy/half digging at one another. The media ate it up. They loved larger than life personalities. That's why Rick had to be created and manipulated and drawn that way. With Merle and Shane… They just simply _were_ larger than life.

Rick and Daryl watched the interview from bed in the penthouse. Daryl was laying on his stomach kicking his feet like a child, a smile pasted across his face. Rick was more focused on the familiarness of Daryl's stretched out body, the comfort between them, the one-ness that he'd never felt with another person before. Not even Lori. His hand rubbed leisurely over Daryl's bare ass. They'd just finished their ritual of christening the new city.

“Look at him,” Daryl laughed. “He's so happy.”

Rick cocked his head as he watched Shane and Merle laugh. “You know what, babe? I think Merle's always been happy. I don't think he's been searching for it like either of us. He's always been happy with what life has thrown him.”

Daryl blushed and looked back and Rick. “Is this the part where you remind me that I was never a burden on my brother and that he loves me?” Daryl asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Nah,” Rick said, “ this is the part where I ask for a round two.”

Daryl grinned and seductively crawled up the bed back to Rick where he sat against the headboard. He straddled his lover and kissed gently at his lips.

“I never had someone like this before,” Rick murmured against Daryl's kiss.

“Like what? Easy to convince into fuckin’?” Daryl grinned.

“No,” Rick laughed and kissed his mouth again, then his chin, then his throat. “Someone that's… Just everythang.”

\----------

By the time they were in Los Angeles, the last city of the tour, Merle was singing half the songs with Rick together on stage and two solos. And at the encore of their last stop, about one-third of the way through _Go For The Jugular_ , Rick just simply walked off stage, like a whisper. All eyes had been on Merle and when the song was done and the audience applauded wildly, Rick stayed behind the curtain. And watched from backstage. It was over. He was done. And the band would pick up easily with Merle and Eugene on the next album and the next tour.

Tyreese stood by Rick's side and watched. “Fun isn't it?” he asked Rick.

“What is?”

“Watching it all come together. Watching something work. Wouldn't trade this job for the world. Will miss cleaning up after you, Grimes. But Merle? That's gonna be some fun.”

“Glad you're looking forward to it, Ty,” Rick said with a smile.

“Got you a parting gift,” Tyrese said, glancing over with a grin. “Suing Lori for Defamation. Lawyers say it's clear cut. She won't be writing any book. Only question is how hard you want me to push. Want her to serve time? I can make that happen. Six months at least if I'm creative.” 

Rick smiled. “Thanks for everything you do, Tyreese. It's sometimes hard to see that you're just doing your job, which has always been for the good of the band.”

Tyrese waved a hand, acting like he didn't need the compliment but clearly eating it up. 

Rick sighed as he considered it. “I'm not worried about my yesterdays. I only care about my tomorrow,” he said, looking out the curtain towards the soundboard. “No book, obviously. Shut that shit down. But I'm not her. Not gonna be vindictive about getting back at her.”

“You are a good man, Rick,” Tyreese said sincerely. 

“ _I_ am? Have you met my boyfriend?” Rick said with a huge dorky grin.

“Christ, Grimes. How did I not figure out you were so damn gay.”

“You just saw the guy you were inventing,” Rick answered. “Doing your job.” Rick reached out his hand and shook it. “Thank you for helping me write myself out of the story.”

They celebrated the end of the tour in a private room at the Ritz after the last show. All of them. Rick, Daryl, Merle, everyone in the band, the roadies, the crew, even the opening band was there.

Rick had his hand in Daryl’s the entire time, excited for a new life with just each other. Glenn and Maggie made their announcement that night. Not only were they dating, but they were getting married. Not a single person in the room was surprised.

Shane walked up to Rick and put an arm on his shoulder. “Thanks for not bailing during the tour. And thanks for putting something in place so we could keep this.”

Rick nodded. “Time for _me_ to be happy now,” he said.

Shane nodded and looked to Daryl. “His happy is going to be about making you happy, y’know that right, Dixon?” 

Daryl grinned. He knew Shane was right. Normally Daryl was the one who worked to make his significant others happy. But he knew this thing with Rick went both ways. 

“Well, I won't be a dick and take advantage of it,” the roadie responded. “We’ll make each other happy.”

“Daryl,” Rick groaned putting his hand over his eyes.

“It's ok, Rick. I deserved that. And you deserve him. Daryl's a good guy.” Shane shook Daryl's hand and went back over to where Merle and T-Dog were talking animatedly about whether corndogs counted as meat.

“What are we gonna do now?” Rick asked Daryl.

The roadie shrugged and looked out the window at the starlit sky. “Wanna take a walk? Get lost?”

Rick grinned, ear to ear. “Yeah. I'd like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed! I hope you'll come back Friday (let's face it... probably Thursday night) for a short epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all your kind words and kudos. It was super fun to write and even more fun to read everyone's comments!


	21. The Next World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A standing ovation goes out to Stylepoints. Thank you so much for you great beta work!! 
> 
> Here it is, everyone. I give you the sappy epilogue--

Rick was fishing on Lake Tahoe in the boat that he and Daryl had bought five months prior. He was fairly certain he'd make a great fisherman after that first catch of his the previous year but that turned out to be a fluke. Daryl out-fished him about five to one.

He slouched, comfortable in his seat on the boat with his Radiohead ballcap on and one hand wrapped around a beer. Daryl was next to him in the same pose. 

“They’ll be in town next week, right?” Rick asked.

“Yup. Talked to Merle this morning. Said no one misses you, but the new sound guy, Spencer, is a douchebag.”

Rick chuckled and reeled in his line, giving it up for the day.

“Did get news,” Daryl said with a grin.

“Oh yeah? What kind of news?” Rick put his rod away and grabbed his acoustic from its case.

“Maggie’s preggers. Merle said it's precious watching them share the puke bucket.”

Rick smiled at the thought- Glenn and Maggie with a kid. They were quiet a moment, Daryl waiting for a bite and Rick strumming softly enough that it wouldn't scare off the fish. “You miss it? Being on the road?” Rick asked.

“Nope,” Daryl answered quickly. 

Rick stopped playing. “You sure? Cause we can get an RV if you want. Get rid of this boat.”

“No, man, I love this boat. You love this boat.” Daryl reeled in his rod for the day. 

“You used to want to live the life of a nomad,” Rick reminded him.

Daryl nodded and grinned. “That was when I was looking for something. Found it.” He put his rod down and leaned back to watch Rick’s careful fingers as they teased out quiet chords, coaxing a melody out of his favorite Gibson . Daryl had been hearing the ex-rockstar playing around with the tune a lot lately. It was the one he heard back in San Francisco on the first night of the MQ tour. The one Daryl had liked right away. He still liked it. It was haunting and soft and pretty.

Rick strummed through it again then looked up at his best friend, his family, his lover, his everything. “Took me a while but I finished that song like you asked. Even though you didn't keep your end of the bargain,” Rick grinned.

“Fuck you, Grimes,” Daryl said, pointing to Rick with his beer. “My end was teaching you to hunt. I did. Ain't my fault you can't learn.” 

Rick snorted with a laugh, Daryl chuckling along with him. After they were quiet for a few slow moments, Daryl said softly “let me hear it.”

Rick looked down and let his fingers glide over the strings. He plucked at them to pull out the sounds he wanted. And he sang. It wasn't a growl or a purr or a shout. It was just raw Rick Grimes. Regular guy. Fisherman. Hunting failure. Co-owner of an archery and fishing center for tourists in Lake Tahoe. Singer on weekends at local bars. Boyfriend of Daryl Dixon. His voice was a low, honest rumble and his finally-healed hand was comfortable on the guitar. 

_  
There's a future at dawn  
in the dim light of a new day._

_Found a breath of fresh air  
in a walk along a parkway_

_There was somethin’ always  
missin’ from the life that I was  
given_

_Something I was looking  
for with   
each   
new   
sun_

_Cause each new sky  
was another chance to try   
and live again  
To try and live again_

_So many years of this life  
they have been stolen_

_Been dead for too long  
it's overflowin’ _

_There was never any reason  
Not to see what I   
Believe in _

_Something I was looking  
for with   
each   
new   
sun_

_Cause each new sky  
is another chance to try   
and live again  
To try and live again_

_I found it at a lake  
A heart that beats like mine does_

_I found it in a friend  
Eyes that see me, what I’m made of_

_Finally having someone know that  
I’m a whisper   
not a growl_

_Getting lost is the only way  
to really  
get   
found_

_Now each new sun  
we get to be one  
and we get to live again  
We get to live again  
We get to live again  
_

When Rick’s last chord faded into a comfortable quiet, he looked up to the other man for his reaction. 

“It's beautiful,” Daryl said, his voice deliberate and sincere. “And that’s sayin’ something ‘cause you know I’ve never really been a fan.” 

Rick smiled at the snark and they laughed. Both men had huge smiles that slowly faded as they spoke without words, happiness and love clear in their eyes. Daryl slowly got up, took the guitar out of Rick's hands and put it in its case. He took Rick's hand and pulled him to his feet and kissed him, sun warm on their skin, steadying their feet against the gentle rocking of the boat on the water. 

Daryl dropped down to a knee and looked up at Rick. 

“What are you doing?” the ex-rockstar asked.

“Don't be a dumbass,” Daryl said with a small, nervous grin. “You know what I'm doing.”

Daryl dug a ring out of his pocket, a simple black band. When he looked back up, he noticed that Rick was also holding something. His own ring nestled in a fancy black box, an almost identical black band.

“I was gonna ask you back at the house tonight,” Rick said. “Had a whole eloquent thing I was gonna say but you know…” Rick motioned towards the ring in Daryl’s hand and shrugged. “Shit happens.”

“Shit Happens,” Daryl grinned. “Is that a yes?”

Rick answered with a firm nod and a broad smile. They retreated to the small bed inside the modest yacht, both already with their rings on. And they made love, bodies moving in tandem with the ebb and flow of the water. Naked, they both stole moments to run fingers over their recently corrected respective tattoos. The G over Daryl’s heart now read Grimes. And the Lori on Rick’s thigh was finally fixed, but not with a guitar. Instead the L was made into a D, the o into an a, the i into a y and an L was added at the end. And it read ‘Daryl’ as if the word had always been there. As if Daryl was meant to be against his skin in every way.

\--------------------------------------

Midnight Quarry continued to be one of the most popular hard rock bands of the early 2000’s with Merle at the helm. Maggie and Glenn had two children and they eventually settled down in LA and gave up the tour life to do studio work and to be home with the kids. A young guy named Zack came on board to replace Glenn on bass and since Merle and Shane were the faces of MQ, and Tyreese knew how to do his job, it was a smooth and flawless transition.

Rick and Daryl had their wedding. It was small, just the MQ family they still stayed tight with. There was no paparazzi and it was as peaceful as possible considering the guest list had Merle and an entire rock band on it. They had many, many more days under the sun together on their lake. And part of that time was spent helping to raise a little girl when Merle and Andrea were on tour and couldn’t take baby Judith with them. Rick recorded a few solo albums, with Glenn and Maggie handling the production, but he never went on tour again. He just enjoyed playing the occasional show at local bars and staying tucked away in his home with his biggest fan.

This was a story about finding happiness. About why you do what you do, why you stop doing what you do, and how to find what you’re looking for. Rick and Daryl found it. And at the risk of being cliche… they lived   
happily  
ever  
after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, kudo'ing, commenting, bookmarking, subscribing and all that good stuff. This was a blast to write and I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> Here's a sneak peek of what's next on my plate:
> 
> An angry sex one-shot is already written and will post in the next day or two.
> 
> A Vietnam-era long-fic that I've been working on since May is still being worked on, now with the amazing 1LostOne! We probably won't be done for an extremely long time, so don't hold your breath. But it's coming!
> 
> And about twenty other plot bunnies that have been patiently sitting and waiting their turn! As the name implies- I continue to be completely obsessed! :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Posting Schedule is Monday/Wednesday/Friday.


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